


Even If You're Lost

by stroganoff



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Best Friends, Child Iwaizumi Hajime, Child Oikawa Tooru, Fire Nation Royal Family, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Letters, M/M, Mpreg, Oikawa Tooru and Kuroo Tetsurou are brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stroganoff/pseuds/stroganoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fire Nation has been strategising war ever since Tooru could remember. He just didn't expect himself to lose so much in it being the Fire Nation's beloved prince and all. </p><p>- </p><p>two lovers, forbidden from one another // a war divides their people // and a mountain divides them apart (S02E02)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I: Fire Days Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edited: 18/03/2017

The Fire Nation was, naturally, the most fearsome. It only made sense that its heirs are, naturally, as loathsome.

Oikawa Tooru was born into a world of flames. His father could flick a finger and the candle chandeliers in the ballroom would awaken in hasty wisps of red. His brother, not much older than he, had the invisible strength to summon balls of fire to his hand and make them dance like fireflies around the two of them. Oikawa Tooru, however, was not born with the call of the fire.

He sulked in the shadows while his family burned brightly.

When Tooru was four, his brother and he would sneak off from their afternoon naps to the castle’s garden. Donned with fauna across the globe, their mother had lovingly titled it the Garden of Eden. By witchcraft too complex to comprehend, these plants would never wilt by the scorch of fire. Even if his brother shrieked in a fit of rage, the roses would stay red, and the grass would stay green because the Garden was a safe haven.

The scroll gripped tight in his fist caught aflame. Tooru gasped.

“That… that was amazing! Again, again, Nii-chan!”

Tetsurou laughed, trying to cover up the immense pride he felt from impressing his younger brother. Tooru’s eyes gleamed with ceaseless adoration and excitement, twinkling his cedar irises bright. “Again?” he asked softly to which Tooru nodded.

Tetsurou smirked. “Okay. Watch this, Tooru,” and then blast after blast of fire tendrils shot up to the blue sky, leaving a print of smoke in their wake. Tooru watched the flames curl and explode, clapping maniacally.

Once he finished showcasing what he learned from his tutor, Tetsurou clapped his hands together just as Tooru plopped on his butt with a distressed huff. Tooru’s pale baby cheeks were puffed out as he pulled his lips into a pout, glaring at the garden’s grass beneath him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Tetsurou cooed, slowly crossing his legs to sit next to his brother.

Tooru’s pudgy legs shift as his shoulders shook before Tetsurou came face to face with a teary-eyed prince.

“I want to be as awesome as you!” screamed Tooru, hands balled into tiny fists.

The elder’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Eh?”

His brother’s confused face only fuelled his distress further. The four-year-old grunted as he stood up, head barely towering over his older brother's. “I can’t fire like you!”

Big, fat tears streamed down Tooru’s face. Was he not part of his family? Why was he, out of all their abled relatives, the only one who couldn’t call fire?

Tetsurou would never understand what it was like to be completely different. He couldn’t understand because he was just like their father. He was strong, bold, and was a great fire bender. But, like good old brothers do, he pretends he does as he cradled the small body against his chest.

“There, there,” Tetsurou whispered against the fluff of peanut curls. “Stop crying, Tooru. You’re just not old enough yet.”

Tooru knew it was a lie. He nodded his head anyways.

Tetsurou was seven when his brother first voiced his discomfort in being a nonbender. There, under the blue skies, as the tufts of grass tickled his knee, the two princes of the Fire Nation held each other tight until one of the maids came outside in a frantic search for the boys then swept them into baths and clean clothes ready for dinner.

 

Tooru’s father was the almighty Fire Lord, feared by many, respected by many. Unbeknownst to his people, the castle was a lonesome place. When they were younger, Tetsurou and Tooru would run through the halls, much to the maids’ chagrin, but now that he was older, Tetsurou was caged in for hours and hours of studies due to his title of being the heir to the throne.

After he turned eight, and his brother eleven, dinners became much more quieter at his end. Tetsurou would list off things he learned about the nation and his element, while Tooru watched from afar as their father continue to praise him. Being under the shadow of his brother was not taxing at all; it gave him free time and options that his brother would never now the joy of.

Tooru grew restless as the days flew by. Mornings were spent locked in reading books after books and practice of his nation and other trivial things that he knows his older brother doesn’t even blink twice at, which is followed by a light venture to the castle’s kitchen where the cooks and maids would coo over him and give him a pat or two before sending him off with freshly baked cookies or fire cakes. Waiting for lunch provided the time for him to tuck himself away in the large library of historical records and ancient bending scrolls.

No one knew, but Tooru had spent most of his free time practising firebending with a candle.

It never worked.

Lunch was the only time of day he was able to truly enjoy himself. His brother’s classes ended by then and he had a break before his firebending training began. At noon he found himself, Tetsurou in tow, stuffing his face into a bowl of noodles and fish as his brother ranted off about how his tutor was a complete bore. Then, Tetsurou would tilt his head towards him and give a nudge to his knee and ask, “What have you been up to?”

And it’s Tooru’s default answer to pull his lips into a smile and say, “Studying.”

There wasn’t much he can do as a normal prince anyway. He hasn’t been given the permission to leave the castle by orders of the Fire Lord. Despite his cold exterior, Tooru knows his father means well. He recalled the times his father had read him stories to his sleep, and all the times he took Tooru and Tetsurou when they were younger out of neighbouring cities to attend the Fire Lily festivals. Oikawa Yasufumi was a firm leader, born to the throne. At the fragile age of thirty-two, he lost his wife during the birth of his second son, leaving him distraught for a winter. That was until a young Tetsurou scowled at him in the break of dawn due to the baby’s endless cries. Tooru remembered the way his father’s gaze softened at him. Although he wasn’t crown prince, he was a spitting image of his mother, all chocolate locks and a matching set of eyes to go along with. Whenever he asked his father if he was allowed to go outside, his father would fix him a stern glance with a curl of his lip and say ‘no.’

Tooru was just lonely, why couldn’t anyone understand?

The maids and cooks adore him, but they could not abandon their tasks. He had wandered off and played with the guards once until his father heard the wind and forbade Tooru to ever step out of the castle and interact with those doing their duty. Afternoons were a chore.

And that was how his day went. A lousy routine he repeated for the past eight years.

It wasn’t until his twelfth summer when his father interrupted Tetsurou’s recollection of his day with a soft smile at Tooru.

“How was your day, Tooru?”

Tooru nearly outright jumped right out of his seat, to which Tetsurou lets out a muffled snort before his father fixed him with a steely look.

“Uh…” Tooru began, a picture perfect example of how his princely tutoring has been progressing, “It was fine? I guess?”

“Are you telling us, or asking us?” his father asked, tone laced with amusement.

Tooru’s fingers fiddled with the hem of his merlot robe. “It was fine, father.”

“Oh, come on, Tooru,” there was a friendly grin on his father’s usually ashen face, “we usually hear all about Tetsurou’s day. I think it’s about time we’re sick of it, right?”

There was an indignant protest, which had the edges of Tooru’s lips curl into a soft smile; thus, he began retelling them the boring adventures around the castle and the Lion Vulture he saw crawling up the edges of the castle’s gates. Tetsurou’s mouth dropped open, fork harshly stabbed into the chicken breast.

“You saw a lion vulture?” he gawked, eyes wide and the black hair he’s growing out sashayed from side to side. Their father frowned at the display of such savage behaviour on the dinner table.

“Tetsurou,” he warned, and his older brother muttered a soft apology before he let Tooru list away his days in the castle. When it came to an end, Tooru’s animated voice halted before his eyes scanned the family in the room and realised that both of them were watching him with avidness. Blood rushed to his cheeks as he settled in his chair and calmly folded his hands back into his lap, knowing that it wasn’t a princely thing to lose himself in story telling. The silence was broken by his father’s hearty laugh.

“Sounds like you’ve been quite bored, Tooru,” his father said, “would you two like to go to the Fire Days festival this coming Tuesday?”

Tooru’s eyes gleamed in a way they haven’t been for a long time as he yelped out the answer.

“Yes!”

 

  
Tooru worried his bottom lip as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Tetsurou groaned from his bed, “Tooru, come on,” he whined, “we’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon!”

His father hadn’t been able to attend, but it was fine. Tetsurou was free of his duties and was tagging along, a promise to their father to take care of his younger brother, which Tooru rolled his eyes because Tetsurou was worse than Tooru in reality. Instead of sporting their royal mahogany robes and royal armour, Tooru had requested their father for a normal night.

Tetsurou kicked at the air where he laid in his brother’s bed. “Tooru,” he dragged out the last vowel, “you asked father for a normal night, yet you’re dressing as if we’re going to a wedding!”

“I certainly am not,” Tooru gaped, and then snapped back to his reflection. He looked like one of the Fire Nation children he saw roam outside the castle walls. It was refreshing. His flop of hair was messier than usual; the heavy robe discarded and exchanged for a plain and simple sleeveless yet collared top and some baggy brick pants. His usual elaborate footwear had disappeared and in its place are sandals. He flattened his palm against the curls one last time before snatching the mask on the table next to his bed and running out of his chamber, laughing when Tetsurou realised the lack of presence in the room.

The Fire Days festival was always so rowdy, yet conservative at the same time. Being sucked into a large body of people was overwhelming and his heart thudded in his chest, begging to be released, to enjoy the time there. Tooru grabbed his brother’s wrist and they jump into the heart of the crowd, dancing and chowing down fire flakes from vendors.

The air was warm and the humidity trickled down his neck. The collar of his top dampens with sweat as Tooru bops to the beat of the drums. He lets the music carry him away. The pluck of the strings and the way his heart goes in sync with the tap of the dancer’s feet. Tooru had never seen himself into dancing, but it was liberating. It let him broke free of his stupor, the ringing sensation left by the years he spent in isolation. The music and the warmth welcomed him here, enveloped him like a hug he craved far too often.

Without him realising, his fingers had bent and swayed to the rhythm in a perfect copy of the bending techniques and poses he practised from the scrolls. Elbows crook and turned into ancient poses as steady feet claim the ground. He jumps from one tile of the court to another, mindless of the slow crowd forming around him. Tooru’s breath quickens under the mask, condensation nearly pricking at his eyes. The edges of the mask scratched at his skin, but for that brief moment, where all eyes were on him but no words of hatred were piling beneath it, he felt invincible. He felt like the fire flames itself.

Perhaps, in the coming years, Tooru would realise that he hadn’t felt invincible because of the enormous crowd trickling around him, but because of a certain young boy’s gaze hidden in the shadows.

Tooru caught the boy’s eyes surprisingly fast despite the darkness he hid in and the shadows of the mask. His steps faltered for a second before he brought his right leg, which had been swinging in the transition from a practiced pose into blazing arcs of fire, firmly on the ground; almost feeling the tremor his foot left. Tooru breathes in heavy, chest rising and inflating in a rapid pace, arms tucked to his sides as his legs are in a ready stance. Tooru’s eyes were fixed on the figure hiding in the shadows, and he flinched when a large hand gave him a pat on the back, bringing him back into the festival.

All around him were people. Some cheering, some whistling, but the vast majority seems to be clapping in unison for… him?

“You didn’t tell me you could dance, Tooru,” said the body next to him. Tooru looked up and from the mask, he could make out Tetsurou’s gold eyes glinting beneath it. Tooru swept a glance at the still-applauding crowd around him and, like what the hours of princely training had taught him to do; he bowed his head, tucking his arms behind him. Once he came back up, his eyes scanned the shadows for the figure that had been watching him. He pulled away from his brother’s shaking embrace, curiosity gripping at the base of his skull.

“Can you wait here for a second? I think I saw something,” Tooru raised his voice just enough for the waves to escape the small mouth hole for his brother to hear. Tetsurou nodded wildly beside him, giving him thumbs up.

“Okay!” he exclaimed, instead of his brother’s usually pale face he was met with a red face with crescent eyes and a Cheshire grin painted on, “I’ll just be near the vendors over there. Don’t forget where our cart is.”

Tooru gripped his brother’s wrist in confirmation before he sets off, wading through the slightly less condensed crowed of the festival. Children were no longer part of the crowd; most of the young families had dispersed back into their homes, tucking their children into bed. Young lovers strewed here and there, hiding in the dark corners so no adults would see them. Tooru brings his eyes away from the couples.

He had heard about love, about the power it holds and what it can do to people. Tooru had never, in his twelve years of living, been interested. He had heard his brother oration about a warrior, one of the soldier’s daughters apparently, that he saw during firebending training, but could that even count as true love?

The shadows between the two huts grew closer, the shadow where the figure hid. Tooru remembered the striking turquoise mask; a deep contrast to the village’s main burgundy tainted ones. The noise of the festival became a soft hum like white noise as Tooru’s feet take him towards the crook between the two huts, and it wasn’t until he was completely engulfed with darkness did he realise what power it was to hide this way.

The festival seemed to be a planet away as if Tooru had somehow drifted into space and is watching the party from a far. No one seemed to take notice of him there and, with a gloomy sadness, he felt the pang in his chest akin to the one he has whenever he’s awake in the castle. Alone. Watching the entire world spin around him and not being able to be apart of it. Tetsurou had warned him about taking off his mask, as did his father before they left because it would draw attention to him and his royal status and god knows what would happen then, but here, shielded by the shadows, he thought it’s fine.

Tooru’s clammy hands untied the string that upheld the mask in place. Bit by bit, the mask loosened its grip at his face until it slipped off and landed square on his lap. The exaggerated painted frown of the red mask mocked him, as are the down-pulled eyes and crocodile tears. With a huff, he threw the mask at the wall of the alley, wanting nothing but to see it broken. When he didn’t hear the sound of the mask clattering he snapped his head up, stunned.

There was the figure before him and in his hands is Tooru’s mask.

Wordlessly, the figure handed him his mask, the figure’s own still on his face. Tooru stood up clumsily, patting down imaginary dust to receive the mask.

“Th… thank you,” he murmured, toying with the string of the mask. The figure grunted in response.

Now that he’s face-to-face with the figure, Tooru realised two things. One, the figure was most likely his age since they were the same height and, two, he was most certainly not from this village.

“Where... where are you from?”

The figure bowed his masked face and noiselessly made his way deeper into the alley. Despite Tooru’s surprise, his quick reflexes allowed him to reach out and grip at the figure’s wrist. The figure growled at him.

“I’m sorry,” Tooru squeaked out, hand dropping the wrist like it caught flame, “I’m not…”

Before he could elaborate further, the figure spoke. “You’re so rude. Don’t you have any friends?”

Tooru gawked. “What?” but then realised he really had nothing to defend, “No… not really.”

The figure seemed to be taken aback by this if the slight jump in his shoulders were anything to go by. “What? Someone as… as cool as you don’t have any friends?”

_Cool?_

“Cool?” Tooru whispered, eyes trying to find those green ones that he caught in the mid of the dance. “You think I’m cool?”

Tooru hated that the figure had his mask on; he couldn’t tell what was happening behind it. The figure’s hand scratched at the nape of his neck as he blubbers incoherent words.

“Your dance made you look cool, but I wouldn’t know how you really are otherwise.”

Tooru’s lips form a grin as he takes in the complement, but then the indirect insult dawned on him and he scowls. “So rude!”

There was an incoherent huff behind the mask before the figure’s shoulders shook uncontrollably and it was only then that Tooru heard the distinct huff of an oncoming fit of laughter. Tooru would grow to remember what those laughs sounded like because it made his bones feel lighter.

Tooru offered his hand out. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.”

The figure had not recovered from his attack but shakes his hand anyway, trembling with the effort to stop. “Iwaizumi Hajime. Nice to meet you.”

“That’s too long of a name,” Tooru murmured, and then his eyes brightened, “Iwa-chan!”

The figure stilled. And then growled, “Don’t ever call me that again. Ever.”

It was Tooru’s turn to laugh now, his whole being shaking uncontrollably.

“I’m serious, Trashykawa!”

  
Tooru thinks that it might just be a trick of the light but he banished those thoughts and romanticised the moment where the soft hum of light coming from the lanterns hit the walls just right to reflect enough into the figure’s mask, and for a second he swore he saw the sharp glint of breath-taking sage eyes.

A quick idea formed in his head and, without further thought, Tooru blurted out, “It’s not fair that you saw my face, but your mask is still on.”

The giggles die down and the figure became still again, watching him from tiny slits of mocking paint eyes. “I can’t take it off. I’m not…”

“From here?” Tooru suggested. The figure nodded.

“Ah, that’s nothing to worry about. I’m not going to do anything to you,” Tooru said flippantly, looking towards the festival. “I do not intend on capturing their attention anyway.”

And under his breath, he added, “It’s not like I ever do.”

A whirl of the wind before _smack!_ The mask that was thrown at his face clattered to the floor.

Tooru blinked. Once. Twice.

“What do you mean you never do? What was that thing you pulled back there then? Don’t tell me you’re not used to basking in the attention because I can tell a talented performer when I see one!”

The boy would then become the first ever person to make Tooru’s heart beat irregularly. Tooru remembers that.

Even blanketed by the shadows, Tooru managed to catch minuscule things of the boy such as his lashes, and the tips of his hair, his arms, the curl of his lips into an angry frown. Tooru shifted his gaze, hoping that the figure didn’t notice him staring too long.

“I’m not a performer, Iwa-chan.”

Iwa-chan bristled in his spot but made no move to stop Tooru from calling him that. “Then how were you able to… do all of that?”

“I just started moving, I guess.” Then, to break the stillness that’s nearly suffocating him, Tooru asked, “Are you a performer?”

In the dark, Iwa-chan’s nose crinkled into something that might be disgust but may also just be raw confusion.

“Me? Nah. I’m a warrior in training!”

“Warrior?” Tooru whispered, “That’s…that’s really cool.”

Iwa-chan smirked, “I know, right?”

His new friend’s face fell then, nothing short of serious. “Wait, if you’re a Fire Nation kid, why aren’t you enjoying the festival?”

Tooru threw his mask a glance and his fingers form a fist subconsciously. “If you’re not from the Fire Nation then why are you watching the festival?”

He knew that the bite was uncalled for but he didn’t need a reminder of why he just didn’t fit in. Everyone he lived with had the ability to pull and push flames from within him or her just because they were more spiritual than him or whatever. To Tooru, it was a waste of time to be a nonbender in a bending world.

  
Hajime eyed the kid in front of him cautiously. He had been hesitant to let the Fire Nation kid know of his existence, the whole war fiasco and whatnot, but the kid didn’t even look like he wanted to be a part of the red continent. The kid, no, Oikawa had his head bent low, brows slanted at the mask in his hand. Feeling like he would not get the response to his answer soon, Hajime sighed and rested his back against the cool wall of the hut parallel to Oikawa.

“The Fire Days festival is so popular and I could see the exploding lights from my village every year,” Hajime sighed out, his gaze tilted to the lights that painted the night sky like so many festivals before this year, “I thought I’d see it myself.”

There was a rustle before Oikawa’s unsteady voice filtered the air. “Exploding lights? Do you mean the fireworks?”

“Fireworks,” Hajime breathed out, mesmerised by the explosions on top of him.

“You came here all by yourself, risking your life, for fireworks?” Oikawa’s voice dripped of heavy disbelief as if he couldn’t begin to comprehend such a stupid decision. Hajime snorted.

“You can be seen without being captured, yet you don’t seem to be enjoying it as much as you’re supposed to.”

 

Tooru ran Iwa-chan’s question over his head.

_If you’re a Fire Nation kid why aren’t you enjoying the festival?_

_Simple_ , he thought, _I don’t enjoy being part of them since I can’t be the best I can be for the country._

What came out of his mouth instead was, “I wasn't allowed to leave the castle until tonight.”

Iwa-chan’s messy reply was almost amusing, but Tooru cut him off to elucidate, “My father… he’s really protective. He just doesn’t want us to get hurt, that’s all.”

“Your father?” Iwa-chan nearly shrieked, eyes wild and mouth scowling, “Who does he think he is to cage you in like that?”

An ugly gurgle that is supposed to be laughter escaped Tooru’s throat. “The Fire Lord.”

Iwa-chan’s retorts cut themselves short. “The- the Fire Lord?”

The uneasiness seeped back into the atmosphere, almost drowning Tooru in the process, but he’s quick to kick his feet and fight for air.

“No, n- Iwa-chan, please don’t be alarmed,” he said hastily, arms flailing in a sad attempt of calming down the nearly hyperventilating boy. It was when Iwa-chan reached back for his mask to strap it back on that Tooru’s arms finally work properly. He grabbed his friend by the shoulders and looked into his eyes, hoping to the Gods that the sincerity he felt could be transferred in his gaze.

“I won’t… You’re safe with me, Iwa-chan,” he said shakily, a dark tendril already squeezing at his heart at the thought of losing his new friend, “You’re safe with me.”

Iwa-chan stared at him, and stared, and stared, mouth stiff with distrust. The blankness of the look made something unfurl deep in Tooru’s chest, an unpleasant and nasty spit that numbed his fingers and lightened his head. He felt faint and ready to fall when Iwa-chan lowered his mask and mumbled a quiet, “Okay.”

He hadn’t realised what sort of reaction came to his face until Iwa-chan socked a punch to his shoulder, scowling, but Tooru knew there’s no anger behind his actions. “Stop grinning like that. It’s weird.”

Tooru only beamed harder.

  
Under the exploding colours in the sky, Iwa-chan told him about his home. His house, he said, is situated in the nook and cranny of the Gaoling village. Tooru nodded as if he understood, but Iwa-chan saw right through him and nudged Tooru’s knee with his own and said he’ll show him there one day because their markets are probably better than those you have in your stinky red nation anyway.

In exchange, Tooru offered him mini facts of the castle he slept in and about his older brother, the crown prince of the Fire Nation, which Iwa-chan responded with a tilt of the head and a, “You’re not the crown prince?”

Tooru told him about the three-year gap between him and Tetsurou but also included how they’re basically each other’s best friends due to the restriction their father upheld. At the mention of his father, Iwa-chan frowned but said nothing, opting to listen to Tooru and his mindless chatter about his favourite foods and his hobbies.

Throughout the night, Iwa-chan had started off sitting against the wall opposite of his but came to end up right beside him, the skin on their ankles brushing past each other whenever Tooru would buck up with laughter at one of Iwa-chan’s village stories. The flesh that covered his arm burnt with an unfamiliar tingling whenever Iwa-chan’s own bare arm slid against his when Iwa-chan moved forward to slap him because of some stupid comment.

He was in the middle of Iwa-chan’s story of the Earth Rumbling Stadium when a sharp cry grappled both of their attention.

“To~oru! Too~ru!”

The prince recognised the way his name was butchered immediately and he looks back at Iwa-chan and hopes to memorise his face until the next year. “I have to go,” he mumbled.

It might just be a trick of the light, but he swore that Iwa-chan’s previous grin crumbled a bit. His new friend nodded tersely and offered Tooru a hand as he stood, pulling him up along the way. Iwa-chan’s green eyes were focused everywhere else but his own and Tooru felt a spike of irritation slap him, but upon seeing the shine in his eyes, the insult dried in Tooru’s tongue.

“I’ll just,” Iwa-chan grunted eloquently as he jabbed his thumb in the direction of the endless darkness in the alley, “I’ll…”

Tooru grabbed his wrist. “Iwa-chan.”

When he met Iwa-chan’s enigmatic gaze, Tooru felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he dropped Iwa-chan’s hand. “I’m… You were the first friend I made, and I don’t want to lose you!”

There was a pregnant silence as Tooru refused to meet Iwa-chan’s eyes. The tiled ground beneath his feet felt like something welcoming and warm, and he just wanted to bury himself in it. Is this how you make friends anyway?

Pain flared on his chest suddenly, but it flees as fast as it introduced itself and it didn’t take him long to come to the conclusion that Iwa-chan had hit his chest. “Ah, Iwa-chan,” he hissed, “so rude.”

But when he looked up, he sees that Iwa-chan was fighting off a blush of his own and he thanked the Gods for whatever light that had pierced the darkness of the alley just so for him to see this sight. Iwa-chan had a hand on his neck, scratching at an invisible itch and Tooru watched his down-casted eyes. Without thinking twice, Tooru stepped forward and engulfed his new friend in a hug. Tooru was a tad shorter than Iwa-chan, he realised, as his nose barely made it part the Earth Kingdom kid’s shoulder. Too fast, he thought, he retreated and collected his arms from around Iwa-chan’s torso back to his side.

“Let’s write to each other!” Tooru grinned up at his friend, a giddy cloud ready to take him elsewhere. Iwa-chan brings his head to look at Tooru and smiled.

“Yeah. Bye, Trashykawa.”

Tooru watched as Iwa-chan turned away and ran into the darkness. Then, Iwa-chan bent slightly before he was pushed off the ground by a pillar of earth.

“Bender,” Tooru whispered into the night.

  
“Tooru! Too- why the hell are you here?”

A rough hand gripped his hair and the action was such a childish one that it awakened Tooru’s immaturity and he kicked his brother’s shin in retaliation. Tetsurou hissed behind him and long arms tackled him into the ground.

“Ah! Nii-chan!”

 


	2. Makki-chan

He really should’ve thought this through.

 

Tooru’s back aches partially from staring at the cracks of his ceiling and partially from having bent over all around his chamber in search for a decent paper and some ink and a brush. He had slaved away, not abiding to time since his classes were over for the day, and folded himself between the little spaces between the cabinets to find his tool. Then, he realised, he didn’t know exactly where Iwa-chan lived and how he was supposed to return his letter if Tooru wasn’t allowed to make contact beyond the castle walls, much less contact from the Earth Kingdom.

 

He might get charged with treason!

 

He’s going to die.

 

Tooru thinks he might be really melting. The hot air was pricking at his skin, tickling sweat to come out and seep into his ‘royal’ clothes. Tooru wanted nothing more but to burn all the robes and his shoulder armours. The sun was blazing high in the sky, and he wonders how Tetsurou manages tutoring in this hot heat, all the while dressed in his best clothes, too. He couldn’t even complain about the heat to Iwa-chan because he didn’t have his stupid _address_.

 

“Takahiro! Don’t go,” shouted a shrill voice. Tooru jumps up from his chamber, his sweat turning cold as he saw a blur pass by his room.

 

He was too stunted to realise what was happening until a loud smack was heard throughout the hallway and he hopped off the bed to inch closer to his chamber’s doorway. The summer heat was still stinging, and being around firebenders didn’t help, so when he stepped out of his room only to have a blast of fire miss him by a hairline, Tooru screeched.

 

“What in the _world_!”

 

Eyes ablaze, the fire prince didn’t hold back in his curses. He could still feel the heat of the fireball, and that was not _okay_.

 

“How dare you do that to me? I am the prince of the Fire Nation; I deserve your utmost respect! Wait till my father hears about this, stranger, it’ll be the last time you’ll see fire!”

 

Tooru doesn’t really know why he’s so irked by this firebender when his family is made up of them, but something about nearly being scorched while drowning in his sweat made him bristle.

 

Then there was a flurry of hands and a weeping face to close to his. It was a woman, Tooru realised, dressed in the Fire castle’s advisors attire. She must be one of his father’s then.

 

“Prince Tooru! Oh lords, I apologise, please don’t take Takahiro away, he really didn’t mean to disturb you. Please… don’t…”

 

She wasn’t weeping, but there was a certain gleam and sheen to her eyes that made the young prince ready to bolt. Tooru shifts his gaze to the boy behind the woman and clicks his tongue.

 

“Fine.”

 

He was about to retreat back to the hell that was his room when a voice pierced the heavy silence. “You sound like a brat.”

 

Tooru whips his head just in time for the woman to shriek, “Takahiro!”

 

“What did you say?” he hissed, glaring holes in the cantaloupe mop of hair. “What did you say to _me_?”

 

There was a sneer of, “Takahiro, apologise _now_!”

 

Takahiro, Tooru realised as the boy offers him a smug smirk instead seeming to enjoy Tooru’s distress, is hot headed.

 

“I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, and you are?” he says instead. Tooru squints his eyes. The _nerve_.

 

“Your name is too long, Makki-chan,” Tooru feels pride bloom in his chest as Hanamaki convulses at the nickname, “I’m Oikawa Tooru. Fire prince.”

 

Hanamaki’s mum, Tooru guesses, watches the entire exchange with complete disbelief and horror and she tries to push her son to apologise but all Hanamaki did was shrug and say, “I’m going to be working with him when I’m older anyway.”

 

Hanamaki’s mother huffs and pinches the bride between her brows and sighs out, “Prince Tooru, I humbly apologise for Takahiro’s behaviour. I don’t know what…”

 

Tooru interrupts her with a snort. “Oh, it’s okay, Hanamaki-san. I understand it must be overwhelming to be in the presence of a prince, I forgive Makki-chan’s complete and utter loss of control.”

 

Makki makes an aborted noise as he lunges forward, arms nearly around Tooru’s neck when the flying boy was seized from his direct line of vision. Hanamaki’s mother, who shares the same shade of sepia hair, wrangles her son’s kicking limbs to a stop and scolds him in a way that makes Tooru flinch.

 

He wonders if his mother would’ve scolded him the same way.

 

 

 

“Your chambers are hotter than the flames my dad puts out at night, Oikawa.”

 

Tooru scowls. “I didn’t invite you to enter.”

 

From his closet, Makki hums in blissful ignorance as he scouts through Tooru’s robes and accessories. It became a blur of currant and sangria as Makki’s pale hands rip through his clothes; Tooru rakes a sweaty hand through his hair.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

There was a noise of disapproval instead of an answer. Then, “Your fashion sense is horrible. What is all this stuff?”

 

As he speaks, Makki brings out one of Tooru’s favourite kimono; the garnet tinged sandstone that would cascade down his shoulders like water itself but was only silk in disguise. Tooru nearly growls as Makki’s dirty fingers soil the delicate cloth.

 

“Watch where you put your hands, you savage!”

 

The pink haired boy chortled and drops said dirty hands to his sides, “Don’t you have some princely duties to do? Isn’t that what royalty kids spend their days doing instead of learning how to live and, you know, learning the ways to clothe themselves?”

 

“Stop insulting my fashion sense!” Tooru shrieked just as Makki grabs onto his stomach in a fit of laughter. “And I’m not the crown prince, so I don’t have as much to go through as my brother.”

 

The intruder hums. “So what _do_ you do then?”

 

“I…”

 

The sudden memory pricks him right in the neck. “Iwa-chan!”

 

“I-what?”

 

In hindsight, Tooru should’ve kept his mouth shut, but he was too occupied worrying about losing a friend that he couldn’t care less. The Prince had a letter to write that is long overdue. His father’s advisor’s son is still in his chambers, staring – no, more like scanning- at the flustered haze Tooru had dissolved to.

 

“I’m missing something. What’s an Iwa-whatever?”

 

Tooru halts in his flurry search of brush and paper to glare. “Iwa-chan is my friend. He is none of your business.”

 

Makki gives a high-pitched hum, exasperation dripped in sarcasm. “Touchy, aren’t we, prince?”

 

He spots a brush next to his ink and forgets all about the lack of knowledge of Iwa-chan’s address, the secrecy of their friendship, and went to hell with it. There was a litter of scrolls, firebending scrolls, underneath his bed and Tooru plucks them out like the weeds spoiling his mother's hidden garden. His father had equipped him with a working desk made of the best wood in the nation for his ‘uses’ and he had never been more grateful than now. Makki gives a yelp when Tooru’s arm wipes away the useless items, sending them to clatter to the floor.

 

“Okay, what the heck?” Makki howls as one of Tooru’s basic bending scroll hits his ankle, “What are you doing? What did you turn into? Nuts?”

 

A rough breath escapes him as he plops on the seat and scribbles on the empty side of the scroll. “I’ve got things to do. You can’t – you’re not supposed to know.”

 

“And why not?”

 

“Secret.”

 

There was a groan. If Tooru hadn’t been so busy ranting about the intruder in his room to imaginary Iwa-chan, he would’ve found it offensive.

 

“We’re _twelve_ , what sort of life ruining secret could you possibly have?”

 

The brush stills and the dark ink proliferate on the ivory parchment. “I can’t…”

 

“What? You can’t trust me? Who am I even going to tell? My mum?”

 

A rush of blood surged to his head, and he felt his lungs vacuum in air desperately; how do people keep these secrets? In his entire twelve years of living, Tooru had never met someone as protruding as Makki. Maybe Iwa-chan. Well, it’s not like he had a large variety to begin with. The point is, however, Tooru was not used with the whole ask-and-you-must-tell-because-I’m-not-stopping business. No one questioned the prince, crown prince, or the Fire Lord; it was just the world he lived in. To be plunged into this peculiar situation was like being pushed into one of the Water Tribe’s ice pools. Abhorrent.

 

Makki seemed to realise he was stepping into unwanted territory, but the boy did nothing but push further. He sets question after question, as if trying to find the key to Tooru’s lock of mind and being. It wasn’t as effective as Tooru thought it would be, but it did awaken a flame deep in his chest that was nasty and bitter. He wanted Makki to stop.

 

Anger was a hateful energy.

 

“Stop!”

 

 

Tooru’s shout was heard from nearly all corners of the Fire castle. There were guards when Tooru blinked and then all he saw was Makki’s small body wrangled away from the berry tiles of his chamber and into the dark haze that were the hallways.

 

 

It was a tourbillion of flashes, so bright and sharp akin to that of a flame. The Fire Lord had demanded to know why his advisor had rushed out at the sight of a kicking and screaming boy and why said child was a blubbering messed of confused ‘Oikawa?’

 

Tooru had plainly reported that the boy had intruded into his chambers and offended him with invasive questions. Tetsurou was silent as his father mulled it over grilled meat before acknowledging his son’s point. Dinner was stiff as the two older Oikawa chatted airily, constricted by the thunderstorm surrounding the young prince. Tetsurou longs to understand why his baby brother was so miffed and perturbed. Sure, they had a four-year gap between them, but they were best friends.

 

Tetsurou hopes they still are.

 

Tooru keeps his mouth shut as his plates are taken away and the maids had ushered him out of the dining hall. He meanders; wonders. Whenever his mind reels back into the events just a few hours prior, he felt the same cincture on his lungs and his vision darken to red and red and red. After that, it takes a while for him to regulate his breathing and to stop his fist from punching something.

 

Secrets are horrible.

 

 

The sun rains its fever over the Fire Nation with no mercy the next day. Sweat beads the size of bowling balls trickle down his spine, and Tooru squints at the sun, wanting nothing more but to hurl it off the skies. Tooru’s tutor had released him early, much to his chagrin, as a result of his ‘sulk,’ whatever that meant. Instead of making his usual way to the library, the young prince ambles out to the courtyard and outback to the royal garden where Tetsurou had shown him countless of firebending tricks ever since he could see.

 

Tooru wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting, per se. He had drowned his pale feet in the koi pond, fisting grass in his hands, and staring into the walls of the castle. In retrospect, he should’ve adopted a steadier stance, but he wasn’t an Earth kid like Iwa-chan.

 

“Prince Oikawa!”

 

Tooru had just enough time to whip his head at the yell before something collided into him, sending him lobbing into the koi pond. His eyes swim like the koi fish fleeing from the disaster scene, perhaps hiding from the coming wrath deep in his gut. He shot up, ripping the water, and he swears his entire body set aflame when he found the culprit of his soaked clothes.

 

“Hanamaki!” he growled.

 

The boy had enough decency to cower apologetically before extending a hand as a peace offering. “I’m- I’m sorry for yesterday!”

 

And then, “And today also! Just please don’t take away my mum’s job! She doesn’t deserve it!”

 

There was a soggy, limp water hyacinth dangling on his forehead, fringing his vision. He sucks in a breath and flicks the plant off, savouring the shudder Makki was barely suppressing while tilting his head. 

 

“Your mum’s job?”

 

Makki nods feverishly, “Yes, please don’t rob her of it. She didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t listen to her… it would take a long time to get another job, and she can’t do that with the whole having-to-take-care-of-me thing, so please don’t!”

 

Tooru’s eyes widen. “Who said your mum was losing her job?”

 

“I don’t… I just can’t let her lose something else because of me.”

 

The koi pond hugged him from the knees and below, temperate and nice. The air was cool on his muggy skin but he steps out anyway until he was barely a metre away from Makki. The young prince raised both of his arms, halting when Makki flinched, but ended up resting his wet palms on the cups of his neck.

 

“Makki, I’m really angry because a) you pushed me into the koi pond, and b) you didn’t respect me yesterday,” Tooru says listlessly, enjoying the brightness of the fear consuming the pink haired boy’s eyes.

 

“But,” he pauses, then, “your mum would not lose her job due to your bothersome being.”

 

Makki scowls at that and swats his arm, which Tooru laughs at. He pulls away from the short embrace with a smile and peers down, Makki was shorter than him by a pinch, and giggles when he sees the flush on his cheeks.

 

“Uh,” Makki starts. Tooru snorts.

 

“So eloquent.”

 

Makki glares at him and scratches at the nape of his neck, refusing to make eye contact. “Thanks for that. She really didn’t deserve…”

 

“Yeah, I get it,” Tooru says in the most sincere tone he could find. 

 

 

Until the sun had set, Makki would not leave Tooru’s side, even when one of the castle’s maids had tried to pluck him away so the prince could have his evening bath before dinner. Makki would occasionally litter awkward compliments by the hour as they scout through the castle, burning through Tooru’s favourite shadows and hidden rooms. Along with the weird string of pretty words, Makki had constantly pushed to repay him for his ‘nice doing.’ Every time that huff left his lungs, Tooru would give a grunt of ‘no’ in reply. The young prince had been doing a starling job of refusing any and every offer Makki had blubbered out, but decided enough was enough when Makki wouldn’t leave him alone so he could take his shower.

 

“Fine! If you want to repay me so bad, teach me how to send a letter.”

 

Makki blinks. Once. Twice.

 

“What?”

 

Tooru heaves a breath. “You heard me. Teach me how to send a letter.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“That’s it.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The fourth hour after the sun had split the sky the next day, Makki bounds into the library just as Tooru was rolling up his last scroll. Makki looked like a ragamuffin from a far; he sported his usual baggy pants and ragged shirt, but in his arms was a large trunk burned into a shade much darker than Tooru’s hair; perhaps his brother or father’s.

 

With a grunt, Makki disposes the trunk onto the floor in front of him like a sacrificial thing. His new friend gasps in a breath and now Tooru was able to make out the lakes of sweat patching Makki’s attire. He holds in the chuff of laughter threatening to spill out.

 

“Here,” Makki says once he composed himself, “these are all the things you need for a letter.”

 

The trunk opens with a whoosh and a gust of dust flutters into the stuffy air of the library. Tooru coughs and Makki holds his breath.

 

It was… supererogatory.

 

The trunk was full to the brim with writing utensils. On the far right were paper that was already rolled into neat scrolls, pillars after pillars of them in rows to the right, and accompanying them were brushes of various sizes. Some brushes were bigger than his thumb while some stayed in the shadows of his pinkie. Right down the middle of the trunk was a glorious stack of ink in varying shades of black, navy, and even _red_!

 

“This is,” Tooru breathes, “How did you manage to find all of this?”

 

Makki lets out a curt laugh. “It was stored underneath my parents’ bed. My dad used to be a writer.”

 

_Used to be._

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine though,” Makki starts, saving Tooru from the pit of guilt, “It’s not like my mum’s going to pick up a brush and start vomiting novels any time soon. Think of it as a gift.”

 

When Tooru lifts his head to look at Makki who was towering over him and the trunk, he saw nothing but raw kindness.

 

It was so, so different from the rattling red he felt the day before and Tooru couldn’t hold back the giddy laugh that escaped even if he wanted to. “Thank you!”

 

 

 

_Iwa-chan,_

_I write to you from the cage that is my chamber and it is very hot here in the Fire Nation! I’m positive I’m melting at this point. If you see splotches of my perfect skin on the scroll, it is, without a doubt, mine and I have died._

_(Probably.)_

_I have made a new friend! His name is Hanamaki Takahiro, and he’s really…_

_He gave me this set of writing tools so I could write to you! Isn’t he amazing?_

“Wait!” Tooru screams, the brush nearly dropping onto the scroll had Makki not been there to catch it.

 

“Jeez, Oikawa,” Makki hissed, “careful with the brush.”

 

Tooru paid not even a sliver of attention to him as he gasps. “Makki-chan! How am I supposed to exchange letters with Iwa-chan when my father absolutely _cannot_ know about this?”

 

“And why can’t he?”

 

“Makki-chan, this is important! He just can’t! He doesn’t even let me go beyond the castle walls, what makes you think he’d allow me to start sending off letters to people beyond the _Nation_?”

 

As soon as the word left his mouth, Tooru hiccups a breath.

_He shouldn’t have said that, he shouldn’t have said that._

_He really shouldn’t have said that._

“By the Gods. Calm down, Oikawa, I’m not going to rat you out.”

 

Makki claps his hands loud enough for Tooru to flinch. “I’ve got the idea. Write this down.”

 

 

 

_When you get this, please reply as soon as possible to the address below:_

_Royal Caldera City, Fire Nation_

_Pa’jing Road, n.12_

_To: Hanamaki Takahiro_

_Hanamaki has dutifully volunteered to have his house be our exchange point of letters. Please reply so that I know you’re really there._

_O. Tooru_

“How would I send it to him though? I don’t know his address,” Tooru mutters. Makki groans and rolls the scroll.

 

“Here,” he says and rips the brush out of Tooru’s hands. His quick fingers dip the brush just right for it to absorb some but not too much (like Tooru had the first few times he tried to write it, resulting in lots of groans from Makki and soiled parchment they had to trash.)

 

At the very front of the scroll read:

_Gaoling Village, Earth Kingdom – Iwaizumi Hajime_

  
Makki doesn’t even have to spare a look at Tooru to know he’s confused. “You said he lived in Gaoling, right? That’s a really small village. My uncle took me there once just to sightsee, I’m sure they know where your friend lives.”

 

 

And when Makki marched into his chambers the following week with a scroll addressed to him, Tooru couldn’t help but pounce at him and wrap his arms around the cantaloupe-tinted neck.

 

“Thank you, Makki-chan!”

 

 

 

_Trashykawa,_

_I told you to not call me that._

_Everything is moist here in the Earth Kingdom, but I doubt it’s as hot as it is where you are. You should come visit to cool off some day. If you’re melting, can I be the one to throw you out?_

_By the way, how do you spend your summers? I bet you’ve got some weird and totally uptight fancy thing you have to do since you’re a prince and all that. I bet you even have some sort of formal attire to wear all day, am I right?_

_Your friend seems very kind. I have one of those here too. His name is Matsukawa; he was also the one to bring me your letter from the town centre._

_I’m sorry if I had been hesitant to reply, hence the tardy letter, but I wasn’t sure if it was okay…_

_Reply soon._

_Iwaizumi_

That night, Tooru had scrambled to find the trunk of tools he kept deep in his closet and hastily set up all the things he needed just like Makki had showed him how to write the very first letter. Messily, he unrolled the scroll across his desk and began whipping the brush with pace. It wasn’t an urgency that was suffocated by fear or anxiety, it was an urgency that was tickled by giddiness and just raw pleasure.

 

Tooru had fallen asleep with Iwa-chan’s letter tucked neatly under his pillow.

 

“You’re safe with me, Iwa-chan,” he whispers into the cicadas singing to the night.


	3. Gaoling Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Respect can only come from those with dignity. I don’t see any by your feet, lover boy.” 
> 
> That’s it.

The week before Oikawa’s third letter arrived was a slow one. His hair seemed to spike up in all directions all the while sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his feet felt sluggish whenever he tried to pull them into a bending training session. His mother laughs between the summer haze as she exits her house for the markets with a last retort of, “Remember to go outside at least once today, Hajime.”

 

Basically: he was waiting for Oikawa’s letter to come already, damn it.

 

Now, Hajime is nothing short of a perfect child. Sure, he sometimes get things wrong and ends up lost in the market causing his parents’ near heart attacks, but he was a good kid. He always did his chores, ate his vegetables, never raised his voice or talked back to his parents and elders, and he never, not once, missed training in the Master Yu’s academy. So when he finally did skip a lesson and had his ears ratted out by his father, he couldn’t help but rethink his life choices, especially the ones made after meeting the Fire prince.

 

It was a Thursday. Daybreak had commenced and thus the sun reined the skies as families bustle in and out of their bothies, stalls rise, and the song of the morning birds roused Hajime from his slumber. The kitchen was abandoned, a soft mist blanketing the edges of the sink just so that Hajime knows his mother had rinsed bowls and cups after breakfast hastily before rushing out of the house with his father to their respective jobs. With a yawn, the young Iwaizumi steadies himself before scouring his breakfast.

 

 

 

“If you leave now, you get nothing.”

 

Hajime’s eyebrows hustled together without his permission and his eyes imagined daggers flung at his friend’s back. “Mattsun.”

 

“I’m just saying, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa drawls out his last syllable, which had Hajime’s right eye twitching, “It’s not fair that I’m nothing more but a… _messenger_ to you.”

 

“I thought we had something more…”

 

Hajime growls. “We’re friends. Isn’t my respect enough?”

 

“Respect can only come from those with dignity. I don’t see any by your feet, lover boy.”

 

That’s _it._

 

“Fine!” Hajime grinds out, “Fine. I’ll stay and get the letter by myself.”

 

There was a smug smirk hung on Matsukawa’s face that Hajime couldn’t bring himself to care. The forest seemed to edge on with no end as he kicks his feet against his friend’s gates, worrying his lip over someone he had only met a few weeks ago.

 

Matsukawa’s parents knew the Beifong family, the richest of Gaoling Village, personally but had never accepted their offer into moving closer to the villa. Hajime could vaguely remember the reason why, but he suspects it had something to do with Matsukawa’s outlandish obsession over trees; therefore, his parents had settled by the borders of the village, just enough so their son could bounce in and out of the village gates without having to walk miles from his house.

 

It wasn’t like Hajime minded. He loved the fact that Matsukawa’s house was located close to the forest. Their friendship had blossomed because of their shared interest in nature, even if both boys think the other’s enthusiasm was odd. Through his fifth year all up until his twelfth, Hajime would break for Matsukawa’s house as soon as he finished his chores and the two would tear through the forest with their arsenal of nets, jars, and notebooks.

 

 

The messenger arrived just as Matsukawa was lugging his collection of tree saplings he gathered through the spring, Hajime huffed a breath of relief as he bounced away from Matsukawa and his trees to go fetch the letter from the man.

 

“Uh… Letter for Iwaizumi Hajime?”

 

“That’s me!”

 

He made it to the bike with a short jump and the man winced as Hajime’s landing caused a flap of dust to diffuse. Hajime grinned at him apologetically, but he couldn’t find a nerve to care. The sun was nearly setting below the horizon, a flush of pink and orange coloured the darkening sky and he couldn’t care less what other people thought because Oikawa’s letter was here. He snatched it, after saying thank you, and fumbled to open the scroll.

 

 

_Iwa-chan,_

_I apologise for whatever hesitation I caused for you not to be able to send me letters, I wish no harm on you. Ever._

_Serious stuff over, you cannot believe what my father just told me! Apparently my older brother is getting a consort when he comes of age to fulfil his title as crown prince! Can you imagine my big brother married? Ha!_

_Tetsurou is four years older than me remember? He’s just sixteen and his life is going to be over soon!_

  * _his words, not mine._



_Currently, my brother is sulking in my room and stinking up the whole air with his whining. Do something, Iwa-chan! I can’t take this sappy nonsense anymore!_

_Oh, great. My father just walked in and told him that his consort(s?) would be ready for meeting in a few moons time._

_I think he’s crying._

_Oh never mind. He’s wailing, but I don’t really know if it classifies as crying._

_I don’t think that marriage is an awful thing, especially because I’ve never met anyone else beyond the castle walls. Except for you, Iwa-chan, you’re special_ ~

_Makki-chan is wondering whether Mattsun-chan also likes profiteroles. (I think it’s some cake by the water tribes, I don’t really understand the words he’s saying to me right now.)_

_Hope you’re well! Be careful with that no brain of yours!_

_You’re safe with me, Iwa-chan. Please don’t be afraid of replying to me._

  * _Tooru_



 

Did the air seem thicker? Hajime thinks it is, for what other reason could make his lungs constrict, his cheeks colour, and his heart beating so fast? The pads of his fingers felt too light, which had the joints of his fingers trembling slightly. What was this, and how does he stop it?

 

“What did he say? What did he say? Did Hanamaki say anything?”

 

Hajime pushes off his tree nerd of a friend with a grunt and brushes his shoulders briskly with the palm of his hand, hoping to come off as if he was getting rid of imaginary dust left by Matsukawa when really he’s trying to put feeling back to his numb fingers.

 

“He asked if you also liked profiteroles.”

 

Matsukawa’s already weird eyebrows twist abnormally. “Pro-what?”

 

“I don’t know,” Hajime shrugs with a flippant wave to his hand, “Oikawa said it was some water tribe cake.”

 

“Oh,” he hums, faux intelligence dripping the low note, “Tell him no. Say I like a good, tender, cheese-filled steak.”

 

“You disgust me. Also, why don’t you write to him yourself? What am I? A _messenger_?”

 

Hajime flicked his eyes to his friend just in time for Matsukawa to blurt out a muffled snort, eyes dancing with delight. “Ah, I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

 

 

It was in the evening when Hajime realised his mistake. His father had just changed into his nightwear while Hajime stood by his mother’s side, drying off the dishes that had just been washed.

 

“Hajime,” his father says tentatively. “What is this I hear from Master Yu about not attending his class today?”

 

The rag stilled as Hajime froze. His mother beside him turns around, shaking her hands at the sink to rattle off the water droplets clinging on to her slim fingers.

 

_What do I do? What do I do?_

“I…” Hajime stutters.

 

Iwaizumi Hajime was nothing short of a perfect child. He never lied to his parents, never disobeyed them, and never, not even once, had he missed Master Yu’s classes. He could almost feel his heart thumping against his ribcage, wanting out and out and Hajime wishes it would just flop out of him and onto the kitchen floor so he could just _die_ already. Under the stern look of his father, he felt as if his skin was prickled with thorns, as if the temperature in the room had suddenly increased.

 

“There was an examination today and I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull the move just yet, so I thought I could just miss this one and practice it alone.”

 

Iwaizumi Hajime was nothing short of a perfect child. He never lied to his parents, never disobeyed them, and never, not even once, had he missed Master Yu’s classes, but that was all before Oikawa Tooru stomped his way into his life and made himself the sun and clouds of every waking moment.

 

 

 

Master Yu wasn’t pleased. No, he was downright pissed at Hajime’s little hide and seek yesterday, but somehow his steps felt lighter and he was bouncing off the village streets, and he couldn’t find a nerve in him to care. It was Hajime’s seventh year in the academy and he was, by far, the best there was in the village. Master Yu had placed him in such a high pedestal that Hajime had always been so cautious in his actions around the school, he didn’t want to tip over.

 

Now that he finally did mess up, he couldn’t imagine it being any easier. Master Yu had been miffed at his disappearance yesterday, he gave Hajime a long lecture about the Earth Kingdom’s best benders and all the hopes he had invested in Hajime and how he would hate to see his beliefs go to waste. Hajime had nodded solemnly; keeping his eyes glued to the floor in courtesy and tuned his teacher out whenever he began listing off the reasons why he believed in him.

 

Hajime’s rebellious (and traitorous) mind had kept reeling back to Oikawa’s last words etched onto his scroll.

 

_You’re safe with me, Iwa-chan._

Sure, Hajime had friends. He had Matsukawa, but he also had all the peers and kids in Master Yu’s academy. There was Sawamura Daichi, also top of the class, but was kind hearted and saw the best in everybody. He was Master Yu’s grandchild who lived in Ba Sing Se but attended the academy during the summers at his request. Then there was his assigned junior Kunimi Akira, who he enjoys spending training time and learning basics with. There was also the odd bunch of every batch.

 

Tsukishima Kei looked like a Venus flytrap amongst dandelions. His pale skin was often stared at, and his fair mop of hair was almost always the talk of every break between Master Yu’s lessons. Unlike most earthbenders attending the academy, Tsukishima wasn’t rowdy. It’s not like he and Daichi are loud and a general disturbance, but Tsukishima just wasn’t…one of them. He never stuck around after training to walk with the rest of the class to get lychee nuts or even jasmine tea.

 

Hajime has friends but never someone like Oikawa Tooru.

 

There was something about the fire prince that made his leg twitch and encompassing his fingers to search for a nearby brush and ink. He wanted to tell Oikawa everything, but kept some reserved at Matsukawa’s retort of how he looked so eager to share news with his secret friend.

 

But he really was. He wanted Oikawa to know about his fascination with the flying bison, the colour of the sky from his window when he first bats an eyelash to the day and the last time before he’s off to dreamland. He wants Oikawa to feel the rocky terrain of Gaoling, the aroma of the market that embraces you upon arrival. He wants Oikawa there with him.

 

Was this a…?

 

Was this a crush?

 

 

Matsukawa howls in laughter. “I-wa-i-zu-mi,” he hiccups.

 

Hajime scowls. “Answer my question, Mattsun. Is it?”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

Matsukawa was taller than him by a good measure, and it was moments like these that make Hajime curse his mother for his short height. Presently, Hajime was to his toes trying to force a reply out of Matsukawa that was not in a form of laughter, but due to his height, Hajime was stuck with his nose tipping way to high for his liking as he attempts to stare Matsukawa down.

 

“I cannot believe you’re asking me this question,” Matsukawa says soberly once he finished tearing up. “But, if you must know, I’m sure it is.”

 

“What?”

 

A sharp pain exploded on his back, but leaves as quick as it descends upon Hajime’s skin. “Iwaizumi, you dumb fool. If you can’t stop thinking about the dude, you probably like the dude, okay? That’s just how it works.”

 

“But how would you know?”

 

Matsukawa’s mouth gapes open like a fish, his usual calm demeanour shattering at Hajime’s accusation.

 

“You’re the one who asked _me_!”

 

 

Oikawa Tooru must have a real fun time, Hajime decides, from running around his head all day.

 

 _And night_ , Hajime thought as his eyes cast out to find the moon shining brightly back at him.

 

After a smack to the head courtesy of Matsukawa, Hajime realised (with deep regret) that he really did have a crush on the fire prince. His friend had doubled over with laughter as Hajime looked on bemused.

 

 _“It’s like… so cheesy,”_ Matsukawa wheezes between chortles, _“you’re so eck! Star crossed lovers!”_

He supposes they were. Hajime was a normal kid from the Earth Kingdom, just living and training and following what his parents had told him to do, all the while Oikawa was some fire spangled prince with entrancing wisps of chocolate hair and a matching set of eyes that compliment his ivory skin. They were nothing alike yet Oikawa made something deep in Hajime’s chest throb and ache. He had wanted nothing more than to have Oikawa next to him. Calling him Iwa-chan and pestering him, but enjoying their day together and living together like _normal_ people.

 

They could never be that.

 

The war the Fire Nation started has been going on before Hajime even existed. It was a norm in his world, a moral repeated over and over again by his mother between the lines of his favourite bedtime story, a mocking joke passed around his school, and a warning sign for death.

 

_If you see a firebender, run._

But how was Hajime supposed to run from this? From Oikawa, the Fire prince that never felt like he belonged, that longed for nothing more than ordinary. Someone he could exchange witty bites in each other’s expense while also trading knowledge about their opposite lives. Matsukawa is a great friend, honourable even when he wants to be, but he just wasn’t…

 

_Oikawa._

Underneath the soft glow of the moon and the stars, Hajime’s heart raced as he dug through the memories of the Fire Days festival. The glimpses he caught of Oikawa’s shred of warm bronze hair, that boyish grin flashing all pearly whites, and sparkling flaxen orbs that gave the Fire Nation’s exploding lights ( _fireworks, Iwa-chan_ ,) a run for their money.

 

With his heart bouncing wildly in his chest, Hajime rests a numb palm against the top left of his ribcage in a vain attempt to calm it down.

 

It didn’t work.

 

 

The Fire Nation was busy. The air was occupied with flying rumours and delight commentaries of how the crown prince was set to marry soon. Back in the castle, however, the crown prince had his head buried in the putrid sheets that were his younger brother’s. Tooru clicks his tongue at him from the doorway.

 

“Niichan, you really ought to go out and do your duties.”

 

His older brother gasps hysterically and Tooru felt his eyes roll involuntarily. “Tooru! How could you say such a thing? I thought you liked spending time with me!”

 

It had been exactly four days and three nights since their father dropped the M-bomb on Tetsurou and Tooru could not be more distressed. Tetsurou had completely refused to go to any of his classes, save for his firebending training, as a way to revolt against the Fire Lord’s orders. Tooru knew that his brother must have realised that he’s doing this all for nothing, that once their father gave out a command they were set to do it _or else_.

 

So why was Tetsurou holed up in _Tooru’s_ bed, stinking up the place like a hot mess? Tetsurou’s usual mop of jet-black hair was more disarray than ever, as were his lifeless eyes and upturned mouth ( _and_ _so was his life,_ Tooru adds silently.) Honestly, Tooru doesn’t get why his brother is acting in such a… childish manner. Once the wedding is over with, he had two choices a) learn to be cohesive and coexist with his partner, or b) just ignore them but still respect each other in marriage.

 

“It’s just something for politics. I don’t understand why you’re this way, Niichan.”

 

Tooru’s words had a drizzle of exasperation, a dark cloud around him as the sun began to dive into the horizon and he was so tired and all he wanted to sleep but he can’t cause his stupid brother was in his bed.

 

In a flash Tetsurou was up with a sharp glint to his eyes. His lips were turned into a scowl and his knees crook just enough so he was steadier than standing up; instinctively, Tooru’s hand strikes out to find something to hold on to. His knuckles faded to white with the ferocity in his grip on the wooden doorway.

 

“Tooru, marriage should _not_ be political.”

 

The young prince’s grip only tightened at the fiery glare his brother sent him, but he remained silenced. With an embittered sigh, his brother stood up and made no move to pursue eye contact. That was fine, Tooru thinks; Tetsurou shouldn’t have to see how scared he was.

 

A bitter chuckle left his mouth. “Sometimes I forget no one taught you these things, or that you’ve never known better.”

 

Tooru’s throat emits an indignant wail, but was cut short with the grim look from his brother.

 

Tetsurou lets out another sigh before shuffling towards Tooru. By pure raw reflex, Tooru winced and stepped backwards, encompassing a frown from Tetsurou, but didn’t fight it when he felt himself ushered towards his bed. When his body hit the mattress, Tetsurou’s body toppled over his just so that his legs dangled from the edge of the side of his bed.

 

“Listen, Tooru,” Tetsurou murmurs into the sheets, “I’m going to tell you something really important.”

 

And like that, he listened; as he always does.

 

 

By the end of the incredibly long lecture, Tooru was left fazed and unsure what to do with his limbs. Tetsurou had understood why his baby brother was this way, but he shouldn’t have to explain _this_ out of all things.

 

Marriage was about _love?_

“So, now you see why I’m so opposed to father’s idea on marrying me off as soon as the clock strikes midnight for my eighteenth birthday, right?”

 

Tooru imagined himself in Tetsurou’s situation. He imagined having the glory of the crown prince title, to have had the knowledge behind marriage since birth, and to expect to marry out of love – not politics only to have his only parent telling him he’s getting a wedding for his eighteenth birthday present.

 

His stomach curls.

 

“Y-yeah,” was his stuttered response.

 

Tetsurou hums in approval. “Good.”

 

Minutes tick away and Tooru felt burning curiosity itch at his skin. “Niichan?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Do you love anyone?”

 

Even though Tooru wasn’t facing his brother, he could feel the vibration of the bed and the way it stilled once he blurted out the question. “Well, do you?”

 

“Uh, you and father?”

 

“Why are you asking me?” Tooru asks teasingly, finally facing his brother.

 

Tetsurou’s eyes looked feverish and the skin of his wrist where it met with Tooru’s back was clammy. Tooru could make out the bob of his brother’s Adam’s apple and waits patiently for the answer. After all, what was love in a world of war?

 

“I… I guess?”

 

“You do?” Tooru exclaimed, pushing himself off with the bend of his knees. “Who is it, Niichan? Oh – wait, no, don’t tell me. Let me guess. Is it someone I know?”

 

His brother’s fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose and let out a long exhale, but Tooru was relentless. “Is it?”

 

“No.”

 

Then the bed shifts and Tooru’s eyes tried to track Tetsurou’s movements but he was too quick, far too swift for his naked eye. With a grunt, Tetsurou exited Tooru’s room wordlessly.

 

_What just happened?_


	4. Hanamaki-san

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But love is a form of energy, and it swirls around us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys!!!!!!! i have some amazing news!!!! 
> 
> please welcome even if you’re lost’s beta reader, SapphyreLily! and look! she even has an A03 account! 
> 
> i’m sorry for the late update, but school started and i’m sort of a wreck, i hope this chapter fulfils the gaping hole i’ve left without updating on thursday. updates are now every tuesdays! 
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

Months went by in a blink of an eye, or at least that’s what it felt like for Tooru. He and Iwa-chan made it a convention within their world to stay up to ungodly hours cataloguing every second and every hour that they were apart. The young Fire Prince scratched at the parchment whenever he was ticked off, and Iwa-chan, with soft and gentle strokes, would ask him who had given the culprit the right to piss off the Prince. When he was awake, undergoing torturous hours of tutoring and/or scanning the library for books that suddenly lost their magic, his mind would always stumble back to Iwa-chan, Iwaizumi, and Hajime.

 

He would be slurping down his bowl of noodles and then…

_What’s Iwa-chan’s favourite food? Does he like milk bread?_

 

His teacher would tell him to write notes as she went on about the imperial war that was taking place and so…

_Iwa-chan wouldn’t even care about this. He’d probably make some god-awful joke about her hairdo._

 

Tooru’s own _father_ would be asking him about his day but then…

_It’s horrible; Iwa-chan’s letter hasn’t even come in yet._

 

It was not like Tooru would ever say that out loud; he’d be basically putting his head on a silver platter as an offering to the spirits.

 

Months had gone by and besides Makki; no one else seemed to have caught Tooru’s indifference. Makki had proven himself to be a noble friend yet again, by never making fun of his outlandish ‘enthusiasm’ towards his pen pal. He would merely hand him the envelope and ask if there were anything for him in it.

Once, Iwa-chan’s letter came in the form of a parcel. Tooru felt like he was gawking at a mountain when the panting pink-haired boy lugged the thing into his chamber.

 

“What in the world is this?” Tooru shrieked, already bumping noses with the wooden crate as he examined the damage it clawed onto his floor.

 

The crate had girth that made it impossible to be pushed past the doorway, and towered over both boys’ heads. Makki’s ankles were swimming in flabby pantaloons, and if he squinted, Tooru swore he could see a margin of sweat dampening the cloth. He winced. What a poor choice.

 

“Your…” panted Makki, “Stupid _friend_ sent this to my _house_!”

 

His head conjured an image of the boy he met during the Fire Days festival and his - scrawny - friend Mattsun trying to get this humongous package unseen from their village and laughed out loud.

His lungs squeezed as he tried to wheeze in breath after breath, the picture tickling his mind and soul.

When he came to, Makki’s eyes burned daggers into his and it took all that he was to stop before falling into another fit of giggles.

 

“I’m sorry, I thought I heard Iwa-chan sent this.”

 

“He did, you moron.”

 

_Wait, what?_

 

Tooru zoomed past Makki to the large crate between his doorframe and dove in tooth and nail to open the damn thing. Splinters felt like shrapnel, and the box was the battlefield. His fingers were numb, and he could feel a slight trickle down his index finger, but Tooru was not giving up. Again and again, he rained his merciless digits onto the crate until it finally gave in. With a stomp of his foot, Tooru managed to pry the wooden planks open.

Then fell on his butt promptly due to the excess energy released from the stress of the opposing forces.

A loud chortle echoed down the halls.

 

“Makki,” Tooru growled, expecting his friend to help him up at the very least. Makki did no such thing.

 

Instead, the pink haired boy clutched at his stomach, tears rushing down his cheeks, and his lips curled into an impeccable grin.

 

“I can’t – that was the most comical thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

 

Makki had seldom laughed outright as he did watching Tooru, though over the course of a few months he had slowly drifted into slow questions of Iwa-chan’s companion, Mattsun, and if Tooru would be expecting a letter from Iwaizumi in the coming fortnight.

 

In the drowsiness of the night, where peace and quiet reigned the land, Tooru often caught himself rocking back and forth on this subject. His deepest desire, besides seeing Iwa-chan again, became split in two due to the odd change of behaviour. Makki was the first friend, disregarding Tetsurou and Iwa-chan, that was a) the same age, and b) understood the way Tooru’s brain worked. So when Makki, his sepia ball of sneers and muttered wits, began to slowly curl around himself, Tooru was consumed with worry. What had caused him to be this way?

 

Iwa-chan’s parcel was a small bonsai tree that weighed nearly three quarters of Tooru’s mass. A squat oaky plant crouched on carefully trimmed verdure. The tree itself was covered in multiple layers of plush, flamingo petals that lolled down ever so slightly, and tacked onto the blue and white porcelain was a small tear of parchment.

It read, ‘ _I heard your hair is pink. Matsukawa.’_

Tooru glanced at his friend lounging listlessly on his bed. Makki stirred a bit on his sheets before turning around. “What? Did your friend send you flowers or something?”

There was a bite at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. During summer, Makki would bounce joyously at the mention of another expected letter coming to his house, but since the cold and harsh winter slayed most of their crops, Makki had resolved to little remarks as if he wasn’t a friend, but a mailman.

Delicately, Tooru touched the edge of each side of the bonsai with the pad of his fingers. Once secured, the Fire Prince lifted it into the air with the same amount of care taken when holding a newborn.

 

“It’s for you.”

 

Makki’s tuft of rosette locks swayed with the slight breeze inhaled by the stuffy room. Outside, framed by the nailed timber scorched with mystic scars (courtesy of Tetsurou and his shameless bending), the sun cast a golden halo above the Fire Nation. Right in the centre of the view stood the venerable mango tree his mother received as an engagement gift that had matured from a simple stem and a few wayward leaves to a vigilant umbrella, granting the castle sweet and ripe mangoes that had Tooru’s toes curling since he was an infant. Its friends include the padding of vibrant Fire Lilies whose sole purpose of existence was to greet the castle each morning with a wave of their petals, and the herd of tea shrubs that are milked for every shade the moon changes. The Koi pond rests in the middle of the two, just a tad south placed from where the mango tree grew and the golden halo shimmers against the cerulean basin. The trees that are excluded from this private group of friends bristle with an indignant squawk voiced by eagles from Ravens and Messengers alike.

 

“What?”

 

Tooru ripped his eyes from the window to see Makki’s dark eyes. “What what?”

 

Hanamaki sent him a spiritless glare that had every hair on the nape of his neck standing. “Uh,” suddenly he felt the weight of Makki’s present straining against his lax muscles, “here. For you.”

 

“For me?” Makki minded the present dubiously. Tooru swallowed and handed him the note noiselessly.

 

Hanamaki crossed his legs, but his back was still concave and his chin pressed upon his chest; eyebrows pulled together.

 

“For me?” he said again, voice scratched with raw uncertainty.

 

The bonsai quaked between Makki’s trembling fingers and Tooru was there in a blink of an eye, receiving the plant mid-air. The Fire Prince exhaled a particularly loud breath, frustration bubbling up like cursed witches’ brew so akin to the one he felt the on the day he first knew Hanamaki’s first name.

 

He was so close to retching out the bloody words, screaming and shouting about how _Makki’s_ friend had given him a gift and how Iwa-chan’s letter was still sealed and forgotten by the size and exotic complexion of the bonsai when a wounded sob pierced his train of thought.

 

Makki was shaking. Tooru’s sheets were crumpled underneath his fist. Fat tears and swallowed whimpers were scarred into Tooru’s memory. _What was this?_

 

“Makki?”

 

Hanamaki Takahiro wasn’t a loud person, Tooru thought, but there were moments where he was. When heartfelt, Hanamaki’s laughs sounded rich and full, bouncing off whatever place they were at. Hanamaki’s footsteps made him to be Big Foot in person, they were just so heavy and he _dragged_ his heels too. Tooru didn’t fight a lot with Hanamaki, but there were instances where both of their irritations burst through the roof and they begin biting at each other’s legs verbally and physically. Hanamaki Takahiro wasn’t a loud person, but Tooru thought it was weird how he was most silent with the heaviest burden of all: crying.

 

Tooru stretched out a tentative hand, and when Hanamaki didn’t budge he reached out and took the pink haired boy’s shoulder in a tight clasp. At the squeeze, a wail broke out of Makki’s previously sealed lips, and it didn’t stop even after Tooru placed the bonsai down and climbed in bed with his friend.

 

“Is this because of Matsukawa’s present?” Tooru whispers when he felt sweat drowning his hand. Makki’s cheek slid against his when he shook his head at the question.

 

“Then?”

 

Makki was quiet, so Tooru followed and soon the only sound was Tooru’s heavy breathing that he couldn’t seem to quieten and the soft calls of Raven Eagles outside.

 

It was only when his chamber was swallowed whole by the darkness, as he had not lit any candles to light and shooed away any nosy castle workers, that Makki gave an answer.

 

“My mother’s sick, Oikawa. Really sick.”

 

Tooru didn’t know what to respond to that. He had a mother, sure, but he never got to understand or feel how it really was between a mother and son. What was he supposed to say? _Oh, yeah. Totally know the my-mother-might-be-gone feeling?_

 

“I can’t lose both of,” _hiccup_ , “can’t lose both of them!”

 

No. Tooru wouldn’t wish the absence of a mother even to his worst enemy. He’s quick to reply and extinguish any doubt that might be mulling in his friend’s mind.

 

“Have you informed my father? I’ll do it! We’ll get the best medics in town, the best healers. Heck, we might even get one of those magical healers from the Northern Water Tribe! It’s gonna be okay, Makki-chan, you’ll see!”

 

Tooru grins but even in the darkness, he knew Hanamaki could tell the strain he’s putting on his voice to not make his voice waver.

 

_You’ll see, Makki-chan. I won’t let you lose your mum._

_Not like me._

_Not if I can help it._

 

 

Tooru informed his father immediately after Hanamaki set foot out of the castle gates. The Fire Lord greeted the question with an acute glance at his son, but presumably, by the fire frisking in his son’s eyes, he could not but oblige to his child’s wishes. Tetsurou watched the whole thing with an aging frown that appeared to be getting deeper every time Tooru saw him.

 

These days Tetsurou had stopped seeking his brother as soon as class ended during his lunch breaks, and Tooru isolated himself in the dark corners of the library searching for a cure for Hanamaki’s mother. The only time of the day they were inevitably to see each other was dinner. Even so, Tetsurou had seemingly mastered an invisible glass case separating him from the reality Tooru was anxious in. Last he heard from his chamber keeper, Tetsurou was indeed going to his classes and training sessions without hesitancy and embraced each new lesson with little reluctance, but outside the vantage point of his supervisors, the maids had confessed to have seen Tetsurou ambling slowly around the castle until he was bound to come across his chamber door. Tooru wished he could’ve said he was surprised, but as many moons passed since their father told him his fate of betrothal, Tetsurou grew dimmer and dimmer.

 

The energy Tooru invested into forgetting his last conversation with his older brother had all gone in vain, for every letter he sent and received and for every drop of ink he splattered on the parchment for Iwa-chan to see all reminded him of it. He could not fathom, after seeing the word marriage in a whole new light, getting betrothed against his will to a stranger that wouldn’t know him, wouldn’t _understand,_ just for politics.

 

Many nights had passed where he was dismissed after dinner but Tetsurou was asked to remain by their father for a careless chat about his marriage, only to have been followed by his loitering younger brother (who thought Tetsurou didn’t feel his presence hanging off his back) back to his chamber.

 

Iwa-chan was still a constant fixation in his life, ever so steady and graceful in his letters even though Tooru knew he was anything but. They have begun to talk beyond the polite pleasantries, and barged right into a whole new territory. Instead of childish questions like ‘ _what’s your favourite colour_ ’ ( _green_ ,) Tooru and Iwa-chan jumped straight to ‘ _you will not guess what happened to me today._ ’

 

So Tooru wasn’t taken aback when he ripped the envelope open in the shadow of the moon and the first words he read besides _Trashykawa,_ were, “ _I keep thinking of the Fire Days Festival._ ”

 

_Trashykawa,_

_I keep thinking of the Fire Days Festival._

_I know, weird me, but I cannot stop imagining the exploding lights, the spicy food, and the very loud bass of the music they played._

_Mattsun hopes Hanamaki likes his present._

_He doesn’t want you guys to know, but he dragged me into the forest for two nights (WITHOUT ANY FOOD!) to search for that dumb bonsai._

_So, yeah, for what it’s worth, I hope your pink friend likes it._

_Iwaizumi_

 

Tooru blinked at it once. Twice.

In all this time of writing to each other, Iwa-chan had always written at least half a page and this one didn’t even take up a quarter of that space! Iwa-chan always had something to say, always, whether it be to taunt Tooru’s words or to tirade about all the chores he had to do and what his earthbending master told him, he always had something to say. Seeing such a short commentary felt like a slap, stinging the entire right side of his ribs, maybe even bruising them. Tooru didn’t remember what he wrote in the last letter he sent, but he was sure that it had been way longer than this. Maybe even a page and a half, but then again Tooru was much more verbose than Iwaizumi, but _still…_

_Why did Iwa-chan give me such a short letter?_

Hurriedly, he thrashed in his bed as he stretched for the writing chest hidden beneath. As his fingers fished for a scroll, brush, and inkpot, the question ran laps around his head, fuelling the doubts that kept enlarging every second. He set off, the parchment resting on the bumpy terrain of his lap, and the trembling brush that wrote trembling words, scared, afraid that Iwaizumi didn’t see him as interesting anymore.

He would learn in later months that, to Hajime, the first two lines felt as if he had written five full pages; back and front.

 

 

 

Hanamaki’s mother died on the seventeenth day of winter.

 

They had a private funeral, since no one would even blink twice at her direction while she was alive, but Tooru found it sobering. The soft breeze - that must have felt like summer to the Water Tribe - combed Tooru’s hair into every direction. The Hanamaki household was too quiet that dawn, and it was as if Makki could tell what went wrong. He didn’t cry, he didn’t mourn over his mother by her bedside, instead he changed his clothes, washed his face, and marched straight for the palace with only the rustle of leaves above to keep him company.

 

The Fire Lord accepted the news with great grievance. As time passed, he had sent the best healers he could find from all his colonies, even sending the medics he kept with his men while out scavenging, yet somehow, Hanamaki’s mother’s condition kept getting worse and worse by ticking second. Everyone knew the inevitable when they saw her pasty skin, as if colourless, framed by what was once long, luscious ebony curls. Before this, Tooru had always greeted Hanamaki’s mother with a smile and a query for when her son would be coming to the castle that day, but as he woke up on the seventeenth day he knew that would now fade into a distant memory.

 

Makki was dressed in his best clothes, although ragged compared to the honorary royal family’s suits. They were a patch of garnet against the bleached background; mimicking an open wound of sorts.

 

Makki was standing beneath his doorframe when he rose and, without any words, Tooru took exactly five steps and drew him in, clutching at him with a fierce protectiveness he could begin to explain. Hanamaki’s shoulders shook against his until silent sobs became heart-wrenching wails that echoed throughout the castle.

 

They showered her grave - located exactly beside her husband’s - with blooming Fire Lilies, hoping to any spirits that were listening to send her off in peace and for her to be reunited once again with her love.

 

During the ceremony, when everyone lined up to whisper their wishes and pay their respects to the stone impaling her final resting place, Tooru’s glassy eyes searched for his father’s, and when they met, both Oikawas nodded in agreement.

 

Later, much later, after all of Hanamaki’s neighbours and close friends had wished him luck and farewell, the Fire Lord took him aside with a gentle, warm palm guiding his shoulder.

 

The Fire Lord was smiling at him, his cloudlike tufts of hair shuffling in the wind. “Hanamaki-kun, would you like to move in with us in the castle?”

 

Tooru spent the day aiding the work force assigned to the Hanamaki residence to move all belongings into Makki’s new chamber in the castle, then he spent the remaining wisps of daylight nursing Makki’s numbness by cracking jokes and asking him where to put Mattsun’s bonsai. Tooru fell asleep exhausted, physically and emotionally, with Iwaizumi’s unopened letter wedged somewhere between the floor and his closet.

 

Slowly, Makki began showing signs of improvement. He started eating his lunches, and actually started conversations with people instead of shying away back to his room. It wasn’t even as if he was out of place. Makki had spent so much time coming through the castle gates that he knew the guards by each of their names, and had the maids cooing over him like they did with Tooru before Makki came. Slowly, but surely, Makki’s resonating flamingo hair charged back up in watts, and thereafter adopted back his insulting leers.

It was the eve of Tooru’s fourteenth birthday when his entire world spun. Hanamaki was just trotting out of his chamber when a loud clash was heard. Tooru jolts in place while Hanamaki jumps to hide behind Tooru’s walls.

 

“ _Makki_! Come here! You can’t leave me alone!”

 

Hanamaki just sends him a scoff, “I don’t want to die, thanks.”

 

“Makki!”

 

They were silenced as a hooded figure leapt from the shadows and into the Tooru’s lit chamber.

Makki screamed, Tooru shrieked, and the entire castle was woken from the uproar. The hooded figure was swift to shut the door, not before pulling Hanamaki into Tooru’s quarters, and pressed a trembling finger to his scowling lips. Abruptly, the boys’ cries were halted, even if they were still quivering with fear in their spots. After a few beats of silence, the dark figure languidly pulled back his hood and…

“Iwa-chan?”

 


	5. Iwa-chan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed~

“You… you bastard!”

 

Oikawa’s doe eyes blinked once, twice. Hajime’s accusing finger is suspended in the air, writhing in spasmodic jerks as his eyebrows were knotted together and a furious exhale makes it way out of his rumbling throat.

 

Now that Hajime’s heart rate had reduced to his resting pace, the blood circulates his brain enough for him to provide awareness, however limited, of his surroundings. Hajime had it coined in the back of his mind that Oikawa would be a messy person to match with his gaudy and boisterous personality, so he was quite shocked to see that the bed, although littered with wrinkles, was made perfectly sans clothes thrown in disarray. Oikawa’s room was bright, brightest out of any other windows the castle possessed. The glow emitted from the horde of candles that littered Hajime’s immediate vicinity; only it was strange because not a single lantern was a replica. The closest to Hajime’s thumb rested by the foot of Oikawa’s bed, it dangled freely on the post as the golden glow flickered just enough for Hajime to make out the ornate carvings on the wooden waist of the lantern. Then there was the one that sat innocently atop of Oikawa’s dresser, it wasn’t wooden like most of the lanterns found, but had an intricate metal shape. It was bent and burnt into the form of a horse-like structure, its metallic mane frozen in time like a painting. The list would go on, but Hajime’s pants would not hear the end of it, instead his eyes flit up to meet curious ones that were definitely not Oikawa’s.

 

By his letters, Hanamaki, or _Makki-chan,_ was short--who wasn’t when compared to Oikawa? – but he stood a good few centimetres above Hajime’s own head. Mattsun would, at the time, enjoy Oikawa’s letters as much as he did because of Hanamaki’s mischievous streak around the Fire Nation Castle as told by the letters.

 

 _Before he stopped sending them,_ Hajime’s mind supplied bitterly.

 

Hanamaki Takahiro was a stout, but lean, boy that looks older than the Fire prince from the tell tale blasé tilt of his lips whereas Oikawa looked petrified. Probably it was because of the anger he displayed. Hajime hoped that it was because of the anger he displayed.

 

“Iwa… Iwa-chan?”

 

There was a moment of silence.

 

 

Perhaps Hajime should’ve thought out the plan more thoroughly. The voice deep in his head that sounded _eerily_ like Mattsun nagged him for it, and he couldn’t help but agree when he found himself sandwiched between the dusty floor of a Fire Nation prince’s room and the rickety base of his bed. The guards had come, alert and ready to pounce on any visible threat, but all they had found was a sheepish looking Oikawa and a mildly entertained Hanamaki. The maids had harried in, their hairs locked down by scarves to shield the bed-hair from the royalty. Hajime rolled his eyes. When the staff had promptly scolded the two boys (mostly Oikawa) on their inappropriate nocturnal behaviour, they had scurried back to where they came from, leaving Hajime free to cough up all the dust particles that waned into his nostrils in the attempt of being unseen.

 

Oikawa whispers, “Iwa-chan, it’s safe now.”

 

Hajime would’ve replied, but a choked laugh cut him off. “Idiot, I think he knows that.”

 

“Makki-chan! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

 

“I can’t believe your friend, your _twelve-year-old friend—_ “

 

“Actually, I’m fourteen.”

 

“Your fourteen – Wait, what? You’re fourteen?!”

 

Hajime blinked at Hanamaki’s baffled expression, then suddenly Oikawa’s friend guffawed and nearly laughed himself to tears.

 

“Oh my god, we’re all stuck baby-sitting this brat.”

 

At the jab, Oikawa snapped out of his stupor and craned his neck so fast Hajime winced.

 

“Makki-chan! Just because I’m born in July doesn’t mean—“

 

“Be quiet, Oikawa, the adults are talking.”

 

“I’m older than you!”

 

“Your personality says otherwise.”

 

 

Hanamaki, as told by Oikawa’s curly (and obnoxious) handwriting, was a fairly new addition to Oikawa’s isolated life compared to Hajime. It felt like a deep punch whenever he would read Oikawa’s letters and _Makki-chan told me today_ or the countless _you would not believe what Makki-chan did!_

Just thinking about the fact that Hanamaki had the privilege to see Oikawa everyday and _not be cut off_ made him bristle in his spot, so much that the bickering two had stopped their gaudy battle and were now both staring at him. Hajime could physically feel each hair on the nape of his neck spike, and the blood – boiling, raging blood – pump through his veins as his brain traitorously endowed images after images of the two together when Hajime was stuck outside the barriers of the nation, far, far away from the prince.

 

Hajime was supposed to be the one with him everyday. Hajime deserved to be the one with him everday. Hajime who, even upon the ungodly hours of the day, would stay up if that meant his letter would be finished just in time to reach Oikawa the next day. Hajime who, despite Mattsun’s endless nagging, continued to _worship_ the idiotic prince while reading every character in his letters. Hajime who, lords save him, realised _six fucking months ago_ that his obsessive admiration towards the prince was not just because he was royalty, but because Hajime wanted something more.

 

 

_Six fucking months._

 

 

“Iwa-chan, are you okay? Do you need some wat—“

 

It came out before Hajime could stop himself.

 

“You stopped writing to me.”

 

Had Hajime owned the will to control himself, he would have noticed two things. One, Oikawa’s lips gaped and fluttered closed, rendered speechless. Two, Hanamaki had slipped out during their intense glare fest to hide in the safe haven that was his chamber. But, unfortunately, Hajime’s wild eyes were only allowing him a tunnel vision to the wispy haired prince.

 

It echoed again in the back of his head the same way it did a month after he sent his letter to the fire nation with no reply. _He left me._

“You stopped writing to me!”

 

Oikawa’s mouth was trying to form the words that begin his explanation, but the only thing that tumbled out were incoherent sounds that sounded more like gurgles than actual speech.

 

“You stopped—“

 

“So, you came and trespassed into my castle?” Oikawa shrieked, but he had the sense to keep his voice to the minimum in case some of his father’s guards were still patrolling his floor.

 

Hajime blinked.

 

Oikawa looked dazed, his eyes drowned in something akin to confusion but Hajime sees the lethargic way in which the prince’s limbs were forced to move and decided it was more of exhaustion than lack of understanding.

 

“I…”

 

“You could’ve been caught! You could’ve _died!”_

Hajime’s mouth was quick to form into an insult when his brain halted the notion to fully evaluate the scene. Hanamaki had left, leaving the two frayed friends together in the suffocating chamber of Oikawa. The candles swished haphazardly by the window Hajime had left open, and there was a distinguishable shift in the atmosphere. His ears detect the slight off-pitch vibrancy off Oikawa’s usual whine, and as his eyes scanned the wooden panels of this enclosed, private space, he caught the tiny tremble of Oikawa’s clenched fist and the way his shoulders fought against an instinctual shudder.

 

There was a misunderstanding here, but he’s not sure where or – rather what – it was actually about.

 

He chose his words carefully, with the pressure of knowing that even one single syllable had the power to tip off the current, already vulnerable, scene they were both playing in.

 

“Oikawa, I don’t think you’re hearing me,” he paused in favour to look straight into the prince’s honey eyes that glimmered under the soft hum of the candles surrounding them, “ _at all.”_

He was met with no reply, and so Hajime cleared his throat, grateful that Oikawa had not pounced on the very last pause of his sentence to attack viciously with no sense of maturity reserved for heavy tension such as this one.

 

“I said, you _, with no warning,_ stopped sending me letters, leaving me stranded with no information as to your welfare or even your current condition. You _left_ me, Oikawa, and that’s not what friends do.”

 

Hajime was well aware of the crack in his voice on the word ‘friends,’ but opted to sniff and turn his nose high, not once breaking eye contact with the prince. “Do you not remember the world we live in? Your nation is in war with… _everybody_ else! You think I don’t worry about your safety constantly? Especially since you’re the son of the Fire Lord. You’re just a bigger target compared if you had been born a commoner!”

 

Something seemed to click in Oikawa’s mind because the next second, Hajime found himself rearing a step backwards at the threatening step the young prince took at him.

 

“How _dare_ you talk about safety when you have no sense of self-preservation?” Oikawa jabbed his chest, and Hajime found it to breathe. It was as if that single digit weighted the entire mass of his worries ever since Oikawa stopped sending him his stupid, stupid letters.

 

“Do _you_ not remember the world that we live in? Iwaizumi, you _trespassed_ the Fire Lord’s _castle_ located at the _heart_ of the Fire _Nation! You_ are an unwanted visitor to the rest of the populace, you would be stripped and disarmed – maybe even _killed_ – at sight!

Suddenly, Oikawa became so much bigger than Hajime had ever pictured him to be. It seemed as if they were trapped in a lapse that had Oikawa growing and growing until he filled the room with his conscious and presence. His words became heavier, more violent.

 

_So this is what a king’s son looks like._

 

“Are you so mad at me that you’re willing to be so _reckless_ just to have a petty jab? Is your life worth nothing more but to prove me wrong? Is that it, _Iwaizumi_?”

 

Hajime physically recoiled at the use of his last name. It was so formal, so detached, so _not Oikawa._

 

Didn’t he come here to do something?

 

Oh, right.

 

“But you _abandoned_ me.”

 

Oikawa scowls, “You nearly killed yourself.”

 

“As if you didn’t kill me already with all the crap I had to deal with.”

 

“The guards could literally come in any moment and—wait, what?”

 

Hajime was so tired. He was spent, broke, bent, exhausted, whatever synonym fits the category; he was that. All he wants to do is actually get this fight over with and sleep. Preferably with Oikawa, but he knows such frivolous thing would never happen. His calloused fingers, roughened by all the plants and bugs he had to endure during his early years with Mattsun, proved to be not such a good source of comfort as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“Oikawa, what you did to me really messed me up,” Hajime says earnestly.

 

Even from the large gap between the two boys, Hajime was able to detect the wince that seemed to jerk Oikawa’s whole body. He was upset, Hajime knew that, but he deserved to be upset. What sort of friend would just leave?

 

“I—I’m sorry!”

 

The whiplash stung, but it was fast enough that Hajime caught sight of the first tear to stream down the prince’s face, giving his brain time to register what was happening because in the following heartbeat Oikawa’s cheeks were no longer soft ivory but tinctured with gouged red. Hajime wanted to reach out, he wanted to help, but his arms and legs rebelled and refused to move in his will. Oikawa sniffs, and Hajime cringes at the dollop of snot swinging to and fro, barely missing the prince’s upper lip.

 

“Iwa-chan, I’m sorry!” he cried, arms hung limply off lean shoulders and they bounced as they shook with the force of Oikawa’s sobs.

 

Waiting. Waiting is the most sensible answer to this situation, Hajime thought. Though when Oikawa’s howls didn’t recede, the earthbender panics and resolves to the best expedient. He strides once, twice, three times until his legs land him right in front of Oikawa, and takes a deep inhale for what is about to be done cannot be undone.

 

His knees felt weak, but his mind urges them to go on. He fisted his hands by his side…

 

before he head-butts that idiot to tomorrow.

 

Everything that was contemporary ceased as Hajime stumbles back and the first bead of crimson oozed out of the gash scratched on Oikawa’s forehead. It was quiet, too quiet, but Hajime doesn’t wait any longer; he has waited for a whole year, dammit.

 

A strangled gasp escapes from Oikawa’s mouth when he was suddenly tucked into a mass of warm heat. Scrawny arms tangled around his neck, dragging him down because the initiative was taken by a shorter, much bulkier person than him.

 

“A- Iwa-chan?”

 

“You’re so annoying,” Hajime hissed, arms still locked in place around Oikawa’s sweaty neck. The humid air did nothing to stop Hajime’s fingers from perspiring, or his heart to stop thudding. He wanted to tell Oikawa that even though he had left him barren with no sort of news for the past year, his stupid heart could cloud that over and act like it had never happened because it had started beating for _him._

“Don’t you think the guards will break down those doors at the sound of your wailing?” he bites out instead. This was easier.

 

The prince chokes, but Hajime felt a pair of arms come around him. “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan.”

 

“I’m sorry, too,” Hajime huffs out even though his brain kept scolding his heart for being so careless and just recklessly accepting this backhanded apology after the strain that Oikawa put it through.

 

Nevertheless, his heart fluttered like a caged bird trapped in the confines of Hajime’s ribcage, swooning at the warm embrace from the prince.

 

 

Oikawa tells him about Hanamaki’s mother, and the consequences of her downfall. He tells him about the nightmares, the detachment, and how Makki’s room came to be the one right in front of his. Hajime bit the insides of his cheeks, grimacing at the image of how Mattsun would react to the news.

 

In turn, the earthbender trades his share of stories. How once he and Mattsun went through the whole village’s mailboxes, wondering if the mailman had slipped the letters accidentally into somebody else’s.

 

“It was impossible, though, now that I think about it.”

 

“Why so? Mailmen can be very clumsy, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grinned, tear-stained eyes blinking brightly at him.

 

The only source of light was the halo the moonshine left on Oikawa’s windowsill. All the candles had been put out just as Oikawa broke the embrace half an hour ago. The two boys rest their back against Oikawa’s headboard, ankles brushing against another as they conversed. It reminded so much of the first time they met how Oikawa’s brown tresses glimmered in the moonlight, and how his ivory skin glowed that his chest aches so he didn’t think when he blurts, “Well, I always wait for your letters at Mattsun’s house.”

 

Oikawa blinks before he rights himself and turns to look at Hajime, “Huh? Mattsun’s house? Isn’t that—“

 

“Right in front of the gates entering the Gaoling Village,” Hajime mumbles, his eyes fled to his hands.

 

A pregnant silence, then…

 

“Wah! You wait for the mailman right in front of the gates for my letters? Iwa-chan!” the prince cried.

 

“Oi!” Hajime hissed, elbowing Oikawa right below his ribs, “You’re so loud!”

 

Oikawa only beamed at him with all the stars in his eyes, or maybe those were just the stars in the sky reflected in his eyes—whatever, Oikawa was pretty even with minimal lighting and Hajime felt his cheeks flush at the thought. The prince had reduced his volume, but kept the chant of his name going.

 

“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan…”

 

“Shittykawa, if you don’t stop, I swear,” Hajime threatened once he’s back against the headboard.

 

“Iwa-chan is so sweet,” Oikawa mumbled and promptly dropped his head on Hajime’s shoulder.

 

Hajime stilled.

 

“You risked your life for me, you waited for me, and you never gave up on me,” came the muffled voice.

 

“Oikawa—“

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa inhaled, and then paused as if hesitant. Hajime kept his mouth shut and focused to hear the faint voice.

 

“Iwa-chan… I think I like you.”

 

 

The air seemed to rebuff against being exhaled, and was content to sit still in his lungs, suffocating Hajime. His hands were clammy. Oh God, why were they clammy? It was a struggle to sit still when all his heart wanted to do was to get up and scream.

 

YES.

 

“Eh? Iwa-chan, you look constipated.”

 

Was he dreaming? God, he must be dreaming, because there’s no way, _no freaking way_ —

 

“Iwa-chan, you really need to stop staring at the wall, it’s creeping me out.”

 

“YES!”

 

Hajime turns to Oikawa’s confused head and takes it in his hands, “Yes! Yes! _Yeeeeessss_!”

 

Oikawa scowls and furrows his eyebrows, “Now _you’re_ being loud, Iwa-chan.”

 

Hajime landed on the bed with a _hmpf,_ his entire top half body sprawled on top of Oikawa’s gangly legs. He stuffs his face against the prince’s thighs, wishing the throbbing of his heart would ebb away so that he could breathe normally again. There was something wiggling its way underneath his knee and it didn’t stop until it was settled right below his waistline. In a heartbeat, Hajime finds himself levitating.

 

“O-oi!”

 

His arms felt heavy; gravity clutched his flushing body tightly, refusing to let go. The air seemed thinner, and the blood rushed to his brain quicker. It was nauseating, but somehow freeing in its own weird sensation. Hajime is greeted to the sight of Oikawa’s clothed belly, and when he flits his eyes upward, Oikawa’s large eyes shone at him in the darkness.

 

When his eyes had enough time to readjust to the sudden view, the crinkles beside Oikawa’s shaky smile was more prominent and his hips felt the unmistakable tremor of weakness from Oikawa’s feet.

 

“Iwa-chan, you’re so heavy,” Oikawa wheezed, still determined to suspend Hajime in the air.

 

Hajime rolled his eyes. “No one asked you to lift me, dumbass.”

 

His chest was still tight from euphoria, and he still had trouble regulating his breathing, but the way Oikawa’s eyes glimmered beneath the moonlight forced a tsunami tide of tranquillity to wash over him. With his entire body pensile mid-air, his head had no other choice but to loll above Oikawa’s smug grin until…

 

“Iwa-chan, I think—“

 

And then Hajime felt himself sinking, before lanky arms cushioned his fall with a grunt. Immediately, Hajime struck his hand out and slapped the prince’s thigh with a hiss, “You idiot!”

 

Beneath him, Oikawa’s chest heaved with laughter, his expressive eyes hidden by their scrunched up lids in pure glee, it almost takes Hajime’s breath away if he hadn’t previously been dropped unceremoniously on top of said laughing prince. Oikawa’s fit dissolved into the midnight air, slowly but surely, and soon their gazes were aligned and Hajime _swears_ this time the Earth had literally stopped moving and the only thing tying him to reality had diminished as soon as Oikawa’s eyes met his.

 

Slowly, but surely, Hajime felt his own chin droop lower and lower until he felt the smooth surface that could only be Oikawa’s chest. Slowly, but surely, his line of sight was dragged up by a lithe index finger, and surely, but ever so slowly, Oikawa scales up until there Hajime could feel the tantalising puff of the prince’s breath. So surely, and swiftly, Hajime shuts his eyes closed and closed the gap.

 

The pounding of his heart has yet to stop as he anticipated for the fireworks that all the girls in his village gushed about when talking about their first kiss. They would whisper and giggle how boys would grab them by their waists and kissed them until they can see spirits, but the longer Hajime waited, the more he noticed what the girls had said were lies. Oikawa’s lips were soft, but never pliant, they pressed firmly against his own and that alone had the power to make his heart race. There were no fireworks, no _muscly_ arm that held him in place, but he preferred this better. Way better.

 

Oikawa breaks off with a gasp, and there’s a breathless laugh that escapes before his eyes melt into apologetic orbs of hazel, “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathes out, “but I think you need to get off me because my chest is feeling numb.”

 

Hajime stills.

 

There’s not a lot that can surprise Hajime right now. His own selfish actions nearly had him slaughtered after trespassing the castle of the Fire Nation, the crush that had initiated the chain of events and who he had so pathetically pined for the previous half year was now beneath him, was now also his first kiss, and had now acknowledged his feelings.

 

Basically, Hajime thinks he’s in shock because the second he rolls off Oikawa, his chest is tight with barks of laughter that he has no control from. All shame and pride had flown out the window along with the mosquitoes because he just _cannot_ care anymore. Hajime heaved in a breath, only to have it pulled out of him in a choked wheeze. Beside him, Oikawa stared at the side of his face; lips pinched together as if the action would bring an answer to Hajime’s sudden depart. Then, Hajime laughs.

 

Hajime laughs like a newborn baby who had just heard the sound of their voice for the first time. Hajime laughs the same way when he finds rare bugs, or even managed to pull a prank on Mattsun. Hajime laughs warm and wholeheartedly, and he didn’t even know why.

 

“Eh, Iwa-chan?”

 

His lungs ache, but the throb in the centre of his chest keeps getting louder and louder, drowning the songs of the cicadas gradually (like the sun that is peeping just out of the horizon outside of Oikawa’s safe chamber.)

 

There was a whine, and then his shoulders were shook by a petulant force.

 

“Iwa-chan, you’re scaring me,” comes the dull complaint.

 

Hajime inhales. Exhales. He counts to ten.

 

When he turns his head to the side he expects to be met with the greasy wall of his childhood bedroom, with its cracks and fractures down the centre where Hajime had tried to dent it in frustration of all the bad days that never saw Oikawa’s letters. When twin doe eyes blink emptily at his green ones, something warm and _his_ blooms deep within. With a sigh (and a pleasant tug on the edges of his lips,) Hajime presses himself against Oikawa’s side until the soft carob tresses whispered against his forehead and their noses huddled together.

 

They stay like that for what felt like eons. The cicadas faded away and there was the distinct clanging of the armoury as the Fire Nation shoulders begin their day alongside the sun who slowly stretches their glow over the nation. Hajime fell into deep flaxen orbs, felt the allure pulling him in, deeper and deeper as the maids bustle a few floors beneath them ready to serve the nobility. In turn, Oikawa curled his arm underneath Hajime’s waist and pulls him in, closer and closer until he could feel the prince’s thundering heartbeat dancing with his own.

 

Hajime could feel the soft huffs of Oikawa’s exhale, and the rise of his chest. As if an act of limacine, Hajime’s fingers crawl almost timidly across their conjoint hip in search of those long fingers and once intertwined, he lets his forehead dip into the nape of Oikawa’s neck. There, he whispers his secrets upon clammy skin and hopes that Oikawa feels just even a quarter of what he felt. Oikawa’s hand makes a mess of Hajime’s hair, but he presses on the pressure and nearly purrs when lithe fingers scratch his scalp.

 

He wants to stay swathed in this comfort and sense of belonging forever, but the distant footsteps and crows from outside the castle walls remind him otherwise. He was not welcomed, will never be – in the foreseeable future anyway.

 

“Oikawa,” he mutters against ivory, “you know I’m not allowed to be here, right?”

Hajime’s cheek vibrates as Oikawa clears his throat, but he stays silent and waits for the pending answer.

 

Then, “I know.”

 

The humidity that was once comfort became suffocating, the hard press of Oikawa’s chest against his was no longer affectionate but threatening, and the silence that engulfed them was suddenly broken by a fusillade on the door.

 

“ _Oikawa,”_ hissed the door, “Oikawa, you need to get up!”

 

Rap.

 

“Oikawa, I swear to— They’re coming this way!”

 

 

 

It was a ragged sandy thing with holes littered along the sowing lines and it comes with a matching red top that looked (and smelled) like it’s been kept in the sun for a whole year. Hajime’s nose scrunched up in distaste.

 

Hanamaki smirked. “Suits you.”

 

Hajime scowls back. “I am never letting you and Mattsun meet.”

 

Oikawa was by his side in a heartbeat, preening at how _good_ he (apparently) looked in the dusty, sweaty Fire Nation clothes. With all the fussing, more odours emitting from the clothes wafted up. Hajime blinks.

 

He knows that smell.

 

“Is this…” he sniffed, the other two stared at him crazily. “Is this that Fire cracker thing? The food that makes your mouth melt and stuff?”

 

“Eh?” was Oikawa’s eloquent response.

 

Abruptly, Hajime was swarmed with two probing heads taking a sniff at his shirt. “Oi!”

 

“Oh! This was what I wore to the Fire Days festival!”

 

_Fire Days?_

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t wash this for an entire year? Trashykawa!”

 

There was a knock on the door and all three parties tensed; Oikawa’s gangly arms gently shoved him to the floor.

 

“Quick, Iwa-chan, pretend to clean my bed or something!”

 

“I am going to punch you.”

 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whispered, ushering him towards the bed.

 

 

He barely escaped the curious eyes of the two hasty maids that flew in and flew out as quickly as they came in, but Oikawa and Hanamaki—as sad as it makes him—are really good actors. He wasn’t surprised about Oikawa’s primitive instinct to soak and bathe in the limelight—even if immoral—for it was the first reason he was so captured by the prince in the first place. Oikawa might be gaudy and annoying and clingy and high-pitched, but Hajime had never met someone more interesting than him.

 

“That was close,” Hanamaki sighed as he sagged against the now closed door. Oikawa exhaled his agreement. Meanwhile, Hajime clapped his dusty hands and ran his palms down Oikawa’s nightshirt that had glimmered silver under the moonlight a few hours ago.

 

Hajime felt blood rush up to his cheeks.

 

“A- Iwa-chan! So mean!”

 

 

Once the three had bathed and cleaned and were wearing proper clean clothes (save for Hajime who was stuck with Oikawa’s food-smell outfit,) and once they were fed (the maids had brought in breakfast with them, turns out Oikawa was as spoilt as Hajime thought he was) they pondered how to get Hajime back safely.

 

“We can always use those mountains that connect the Earth Kingdom and the Fire-“

 

“Maki-chan, no offense, but you’re no longer part of the Get Iwa-chan To Safety exclusive club.”

 

“That’s rude, Oikawa, considering I was the founder-“

 

“ _No_ , I was!”

 

That ugly hoarse dryness struck at him as they bicker with teasing smiles and perfected unison. It was something he had to work and even risk his life for to achieve, but here Hanamaki was with nothing short of pure luck of meeting and befriending Oikawa. Honestly, it made Hajime sick.

 

But Oikawa would catch his eyes during their play fight, and Oikawa’s upper lip would curve in a little the way it did during the night, and Hajime could recall feeling it against his own chap lips and…Honestly, Hajime was fine. He was fine as long as his face wasn’t as red and hot as it felt. The throb that had consumed his heart a few months ago had not diminished by seeing Oikawa (and even kissing him! Hajime cannot function at the thought,) it just began to pulse even more, like Hajime had grown another heart right next to his own solely for the purpose and entertainment of the Fire Prince. It was nerve wrecking as much as it was thrilling.

 

They squabble about it for some more time, Hajime—to be frank—had spaced out and was completely lost until a sweaty finger poked at his cheek.

 

“Eh? Iwa-chan, why are you always like this~”

 

“Stop touching me with your dirty fingers, Assikawa.”

 

Oikawa’s face scrunched up into a wail as Hanamaki swerves to his right to avoid the mess. The pink haired boy approached him, his eyes piercing Hajime’s dull green ones.

 

“He wanted to ask if you wanted to stay a bit longer, you know,” Hanamaki whispered.

 

Oikawa was behind them, oblivious to the current conversation.

 

Apparently the confusion translated to his face because the next thing he knew Oikawa was tugging at his wrist as they duck and dodge the maids and officiates of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYYYYYYYYYYYY 100 KUDOS /AND/ 20K WORDS????? 
> 
> yo yo but listen, i'm so moved and grateful that i still have readers even though this was mostly the eXpo fucking sition of the story
> 
> but fret no longer 
> 
> this is the real deal-- the actual present (they're like 13 ish so there's gonna be a 5 year time skip) chapter is happening right after the next one
> 
> AND THE NEXT ONE IS KUROO + IWA CENTRIC SO 
> 
> i hope u forgive me for this 3 week hiatus T_T


	6. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3.5k words of Tetsu-nii, Iwa-chan, and Matsuhana

Makki shrugged, “I’m not against it.”

 

“What?” Tooru shrieked and shook Makki’s shoulders, “How could you!”

 

“I’m just saying, Oikawa, this isn’t a bad idea. We need to get him home one way or another.”

 

Tooru slumped. It was mindful and the most sensible thing to do, but Tooru’s mind just cannot and refused to accept the idea in any way presented. It’s selfish, he knows this, but Iwa-chan…

 

Iwa-chan _belonged_ in the palace. Sheltered by the tree’s dark capes, Tooru flit his gaze up and locked in at the boy too enraptured by the surrounding nature of the garden to notice. Iwa-chan’s skin glowed in the sun, a deep contrast to the burns the Fire Prince possess without drenching himself in oil to protect his skin for five minutes. His friend was on all fours, tendons pulled at the vice grip on chartreuse weeds. There was an airy guffaw from where he sat as he peered up at the sky, the grin on his face reflected in the sunbeams surrounding them.

 

Makki nudged him. “He really is an Earth kid.”

 

Tooru swallowed the forming lump in his throat. “Yeah,” before he stepped out into the scorching sulphur-yellow interstices.

 

 

Iwa-chan met him with an infectious laugh. “Look at him, Oikawa. Isn’t he cute?”

 

The young prince’s face twisted at the creepy crawler. The insect’s nasty wings vibrate erratically against the callous yet gentle palm of Iwa-chan. With a sniff, Tooru shook his head and nods off to the side, eyeing the green plains of the garden instead.

 

“I won’t have it. Let that disgusting thing go.”

 

A wicked grin plastered itself on Iwa-chan’s face, freezing the hair on Tooru’s nape. His body was already rearing slowly until his feet malfunction and he fell to the ground with a thud. Iwa-chan’s scrubby shorts tinted green from the grass reflection wave in the wind before it stuck onto his skin completely. With a shriek, Tooru scrambled and forced his legs to take him anywhere else because Iwa-chan was hot on his tail with that offensive bug in his hand and a charming grin on his face.

 

 

The blue afternoon faded into maroon as the sun slipped down. The birds went back inside their pigeonholes and the translucent rippling water of the pond shimmered gold. White wisps of floating dandelion seeds breeze past in the evening wind and a low roar of the Fire Nation’s beloved, but unseen, lion vulture echoes unto the land. The three boys knock their knees against each other in a huddle, hushed whispers exchanged in a means of discreetness.

 

“Oikawa, you’re the only person against it,” Makki drawled, head knocking softly against Tooru’s.

 

“I’m just worried for Iwa-chan! What if he gets kidnapped? You know how incompetent-“

 

“That’s hardly the case.”

 

With a steely glare, Makki sent Tooru to go fix his issues elsewhere while he calls for the farm boy. A huff escaped his downturned lips as he watched Makki make his way past the bushes until the knocks of foot on concrete travel back and his eyes relocate themselves onto the duck pond. Tooru wanted, no _needed,_ Iwa-chan to stay.

 

“Hey.”

 

There was a weight pressing itself against Tooru’s knees and he doesn’t need to turn his head to see who it is. Said weight adopted a relaxed pose, reclining back and sticking his arms by his side to support himself against the grass.

 

“The Fire Nation’s really pretty, you know? I didn’t think it would be this green,” Iwa-chan said in a soft laugh.

 

When Tooru doesn’t reply, Iwa-chan knocked his knee against his. “Eh? What’s wrong with you now, Trashikawa?”

 

No reply.

 

“Tooru,” Iwa-chan groaned, “Don’t do this now. I only have until…”

 

“I don’t want you to go,” Toruu murmured into his knees. Iwa-chan was silent, but Tooru could feel questioning eyes beckoning him to speak.

 

“I…” he trailed off. What does he say? What does he _need_ to say? Is there even anything he _can_ say at this point?

 

He’s flustered and confused, and no one ever told him that having… whatever this is could be this painful. Tetsurou had never confided this sort of information to him, nor did his father. If he recalled correctly, Makki had this obsession over a girl in his school before he moved in, but even then Makki kept it mostly to himself. So what is this and why won’t it go away?

 

Tooru has never been selfish in his life. He gave up time with his brother so he could perfect his duties, he never asked for more in dinner, he knows when to stop seeking his father, and he makes sure that Makki always feels welcome. He’s not greedy, but _dammit_ can’t he have this one thing?

 

A gasp tore its way out of him as lean arms drag him sideways. Iwa-chan’s hugs are something heaven-like and even after a day under the brutal sun, he still smells nice.

 

“I don’t want to go either, idiot,” came the gargled response, “I don’t want to, but I have to!”

 

It took a moment for Tooru to register the way Iwa-chan’s shoulder quakes and the growing wet patch on his neck. Tooru gripped him as tight as his heart felt.

 

“Me too, Iwa-chan.”

 

 

Kindaichi shivered under Tooru’s glare, and the prince smirked in triumph.

 

“ _Oikawa,”_ Makki reprimanded. Makki sighed in defeat when Tooru won’t stop viciously glaring the farm boy down and turns to Iwa-chan instead.

 

The earth bender looked worse for wear. Red-rimmed eyes, sagged shoulders, and outmatched outfit to tie the whole look presented Iwaizumi Hajime. Nevertheless, the boy kept a watery grin and raised his head expectantly at Makki.

 

“Kindaichi’s father is in charge of the horses, which means he’s in charge of exportation, importation, as well as any cart trips asked by the royal family. So even though he’s two years younger than us, he’ll probably manage getting you across the borders and into Gaoling no problem. Right, Kindaichi?”

 

Tooru watched as Iwa-chan avert his eyes to the farmhand and bristled when he realised Kindaichi’s blushing from the new-found attention. The farmhand bowed, his turnip head nearly prodded Tooru’s shorts.

 

“It is an honour to help Oikawa-san!” Kindaichi bellowed to his knees. Beside him, Iwa-chan chuckled.

 

“Only twelve and you can already man a trip to another nation?” Iwa-chan whistled, “That’s some skill right there.”

 

Kindaichi’s ears burned red and Tooru is left standing in the side-lines belligerently watching the scene unfold as Makki snorted across him.

 

One of the horses in the stable whinnied and stapled its feet on the hay-floor. The flies are buzzing around the manure pile right below the tap water that’s spitting out little drops, an endless _tuss tuss tuss._ Tooru grimaced at the pungent smell and moves closer to Iwa-chan, the latter oblivious to the prince’s discomfort. Iwa-chan’s lips curled.

 

“But are you sure your father won’t mind sending you out for a two-day trip down to the Earth Kingdom?”

 

The farm boy’s head rattled on his neck in refusal. “I’m supposed to export some hay down to the Nation’s colonial city, so it’s not a stretch to spend a day or two to the southern parts.”

 

Iwa-chan’s eyes light up, and Tooru’s mind sizzled. “Oh! You don’t have to go that far, it’s okay. If you drop me by the colonial city, I can make way to Gaoling easily. Thank you for your help, though, Kindaichi.”

 

Kindaichi _glowed,_ and Tooru decided enough is enough.

 

The prince bounced to his side and roped an arm around the earthbender’s shoulders. He eyed the farm boy maliciously and, with a sickeningly sweet voice, said, “You should get the cart ready, Yuu-chan, or else _Hajime_ might not make it home in time!”

 

“Y-yes, Oikawa-san,” blurted Kindaichi, and then the boy was off racing time to gather the cart ready.

 

Makki snorted and Iwa-chan’s lips formed a tut. “That wasn’t nice, Assikawa. He’s helping us, you should be thankful.”

 

He tried to squash down the disgusting feeling butting in his face with a smile, “Do what, Iwa-chan?”

 

Before Iwa-chan could reply, Makki retorted, “Hajime, huh? Iwa Hajime?”

 

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” supplied Iwa-chan, “this asshole just likes to butcher my name. Please don’t take him seriously.”

 

“Oh, like I ever do,” was the mirthless response. Tooru balked.

“So mean! So mean, Makki!”

 

Makki threw his head back and laughed, shoulders rocked back and forth with the force of happiness. Iwa-chan even let in a couple of his own chuckles before Makki is reduced to a sombre smile.

 

“You’re good, Iwaizumi. Tell Mattsun his bonsai’s alive,” he said while handing a pink envelope to the earthbender.

 

Iwa-chan eyed the envelope like gold, then his eyes snap up and there’s a watery smile on his face. “So are you. Thanks for this, you know. He… he’ll really appreciate it.”

 

Makki’s eyes are clear now like the stars that are beginning to drop from the clouds and into the dark sky. “Well. I’ll leave you to it then. Until the next time.”

 

Makki threw one last wave to the back of his shoulder then continued sulking through the tree-lined passage that led to the castle’s kitchen. They’re moonlit, with only a faint hum of the candlelight near the stable’s entrance illuminating their surroundings. Far off, probably at the back of the stable, came the sound of rustling and verses of hushed whispers of a farm boy. There’s already a cart waiting by the manure pile and a horse prepped and ready for travel.

 

Iwa-chan forced his head up. “The stars from the Fire Nation are… wow. You can’t get a view like this in my village.”

 

Tooru distractedly hummed in response.

 

The dark sky and the throb of the candlelight enforced the green of Iwa-chan’s eyes to glimmer bright in the darkness. His features are defined in gold from the little fire and Tooru felt his lips twitch into a sad smile.

 

“I’m really going to miss you, Iwa-chan.”

 

The statement was like the final blow to the boy’s already frail line of defence.

 

“Tooru?”

 

His blood froze.

 

“Nii-chan?”

 

His brother stood in the dim lantern light off a limply hanging branch. The path to the forest was enveloped in darkness, only the starting few trees were seen from the hum of the candlewick.

 

“Tooru, who’s this? I didn’t know you had other friends.”

 

Tooru didn’t even register the backhanded insult for his mouth was locked shut to prevent his lips from trembling into a soulless cry.

 

_How? Just how could this happen?_

“Oikawa-san, the carriage is prepared. Do we leave for the colonial village—o-oh! Crown prince Oikawa-san…”

 

“Just call me Tetsu, Kindaichi.”

 

“Yes, Tetsu-san! Will I also be delivering you to the colonial village with Iwaizumi-san?”

 

“Iwaizumi?”

 

Tooru physically felt the sharp glance his brother cut to him and then to Iwa-chan beside him. Tooru knew that if he doesn’t move now, Tetsurou would dig deeper until he finds the truth, no matter how dishonest his method may be. Tooru can’t, Tooru _won’t,_ let Iwa-chan go through that gruelling process. God knows what Tetsurou will do.

 

“He’s my friend, Nii-chan.”

 

Tetsurou ambled out of the darkness and into the dim brightness of the stable. The horses shook their mane and whinnied as heavy hooves stapled against the hayed ground. The wet slop of Tetsurou’s boots on mud nearly had Tooru wince as he imagines what sort of punishment his big brother would uphold when he finds out where Iwa-chan came from.

 

“Hm,” Tetsurou hummed when he was finally face to face with Iwa-chan. His brother gives Iwa-chan a steely lookover. “I’ve never seen you around before. Why are you heading to the colonial village with the king’s horses?”

 

His brother took a menacing step, but Iwa-chan held his gaze. “Are you a fraud? Have you come here in theft, but my brother saw you and decided to play it safe? Are you taking advantage of my brother?”

 

When Iwa-chan doesn’t respond, Tetsurou flicked an arm up and his fist roared in flames. “Answer me!”

 

“Nii-chan…” Tooru squeaked. Tetsurou whirled on him and the young prince flinched at the ferocity in his eyes, but the fireball in his hand flowed in motion and was casted in Tooru’s direction. There was a split second where Tooru registered the realisation and fear dawning on his brother’s face, but the fireball kept hurling at him and he sealed his eyes shut in prayer for safety.

 

The ground beneath him rumbled before a wall erected out of the earth and the fireball exploded against the wet soil. As quick as it came, the wall dived deep into the ground, where it showed no cracks or lumps that indicated queerness.

 

Tooru looked across and saw Iwa-chan in an attack pose, hands reached out towards Tooru’s direction and feet dug firmly on the ground. When his eyes caught the earthbender’s, Iwa-chan’s troubled wrinkles soften and he lowered his arms to his side.

 

Tetsurou gaped. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

 

“ _What.”_

Frantically, Tooru crossed the pit between them and launched himself at his big brother.

 

“Nii-chan, please don’t hurt him. He’s my friend. I met him in the Fire Days festival and we’ve been talking since then. He didn’t mean to trespass, but I forgot to tell him that Makki-chan moved and he thought I didn’t want him anymore so he got mad. Please don’t hurt him, Nii-chan. It’s my fault, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Please…”

 

“Tooru, breathe,” then there was a large palm on his back and his forehead was pressed against a hard chest. “I’m not mad.”

 

Tooru’s shoulders quaked uncontrollably and he had tears streamed down his face, but the warmth of his brother’s embrace grounded him.

 

“God, Tooru. What have you gotten yourself into?”

 

 

In the end, Tetsurou told Kindaichi to go back home and that he has it handled. Kindaichi, flustered, bowed and thanked him for the early release before he set out to call Yaku as requested by Tetsurou. Yaku was Tetsurou’s advisor who just happened to grow up with him and ended up being his part-time babysitter as well. The young man harrumphed at Tetsurou’s Cheshire grin, but called on his second in command anyways and ordered him to deliver Prince Tooru’s friend to the colonial village anyways.

 

Tetsurou had a vice grip on Tooru’s shoulders, but he allowed the two friends to bid farewell in peace. He teased Yaku for not sending out Lev Haiba instead of Inuoka and the two bickered all the way back to the castle. Inuoka, Iwa-chan’s designated driver, wait patiently outside the carriage as the two children sit knee-to-knee inside.

 

“I’m surprised your brother didn’t blow me up or something,” Iwa-chan murmured. Tooru huffed a laugh even though his eyes were watery.

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

Silence fell in the carriage and Tooru knew he had to wrap this up soon or not Iwa-chan will never go back home. Numbly, he took Iwa-chan’s hand and intertwined it with his fingers. Tooru heard Iwa-chan’s breath hitch before the fingers in his relax and gripped him tighter. The fire prince tipped his head inwards until their foreheads rubbed against another.

 

“Bye, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said morosely before Iwa-chan closed the gap and sealed their goodbye with a soft kiss.

 

Tooru watched Iwa-chan’s waving arm minimise with the distance before it blips out of existence, then he shuffled his feet until it hits the castle’s kitchen back door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Iwaizumi, anything new from the nobility?”

 

Hajime clicked his tongue at Matsukawa’s smug smirk. “Stop it, you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

 

Mattsun shrugged and propped his legs up on the wall so he could rest his chin on his knees. Then he took a deep inhale and averted his eyes, “Did… Was Hanamaki there?”

 

Surprise bubbled its way out of Hajime’s throat and he grinned sheepishly, “Ah, I forgot to give you this…. Wait, let me find it…”

 

The pink envelope was in pristine condition as if Hajime hadn’t just sat on it for the gruelling hours of his trip and stashed it in the bottom of his drawer unwashed for three weeks. He offered the letter (Hajime guessed it’s a letter, he wouldn’t know otherwise) and his grin stretched even more as he saw the way his friend’s cheeks flushed as he shakily accepted the letter.

 

“You’re right. His hair is impossibly pink.”

 

While Mattsun invested himself in Hanamaki’s four-paged letter (four-paged!) Hajime dazed off into the distance, but kept his eyes fixated firmly on the village entrance for that sleek silver bike dressed in green.

 

The summer was always humid in Gaoling, well the Earth Kingdom in general, and the cicadas sang their heatstroke anthem as perspiration collected themselves in every nook and cranny of Hajime’s body. His wrist bent and stretched as he fanned himself, willing the heat waves to have mercy on him for however long it takes the mailman to reach Gaoling this time. Mattsun’s eyes were deep with intensity that Hajiime had only seen during the seasonal changes where he is dragged into Mattsun’s botanic garden and shoved into every pot of plant to help his friend ‘re-organise.’ To see that Mattsun had finally found another muse besides plants was thrilling.

 

“So,” Hajime prompted, “what did he say?”

 

Mattsun didn’t acknowledge him until the second time Hajime repeated the question. “Huh? You said something?”

 

Hajime merely rolled his eyes and huffed, “And you say _I’m_ the worst one.”

 

His friend ignored the backhanded insult and jumped into a seating position so he could show Hajime the letters. Hanamaki had better handwriting than Oikawa’s, he noted, they were legible and not obnoxious. However, Mattsun didn’t exploit the entirety of the letter’s content and barely gave Hajime any indication of what was discussed in those four pages.

 

Matsukawa sighed, “He wrote on _papers.”_

“So?”

 

“Papers, Iwaizumi, _papers_ are rare and he made an envelope out of tinted one, too! Face it, mine is better than yours.”

 

“What.”

 

Mattsun’s eyebrows did that _thing_ that had every impulse control in Hajime’s body relent and screamed at him to punch, but the distant echo of a bike bell shook him awake.

 

“Mr Mailman! Mr Mailman,” Hajime wailed as he waved his arms about only when the bike started to turn to Matsukawa’s house did stop.

 

“Ah, Iwaizumi-kun, I actually _do_ have mail for you this time.”

 

The man twisted to reach the scroll handles perched on the back of his bike while muttering Hajime’s surname. The scroll is fished out of the second to last handle, he handed it to Hajime and the mailman smiled and waved before he rode off to the other houses.

 

Swiftly, Hajime unrolled the scroll.

 

Mattsun shifted on the wall as his thumbs fingered the pink envelope’s edges. “What did he say?”

 

Hajime gulped, but he didn’t take his eyes off the scroll. “He invited us to a party.”

 

“A party?” Matsukawa questioned, tone lighter in confusion.

 

“His older brother’s, _the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation,_ coming of age party this new moon.”

 

Mattsun shivered, “I feel like he’s mocking us or something…”

 

“No,” Hajime shook his head and finally looked at his friend, “it’s really an invitation.”

 

“We’re going to the Fire Nation on Tuesday.”

 

“That’s in two days! But wait, I have a test on Tuesday,” Mattsun whined, shoulders sagged and eyebrows pulled down.

 

“ _Mattsun.”_

 

* * *

 

_Iwa-chan~_

_Nii-chan isn’t mad at me and I don’t know whether I’m dreaming this or not, but he said to invite you to his coming of age party!_

_I don’t really know how it’s like in the Earth Kingdom, but here we celebrate the throne heir’s eighteenth birthday because it marks something. I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention to Nii-chan’s whining._

_Makki is reading off my shoulder and he told me to tell you that Mattsun is also invited!_

_I know you’re probably going to freak out and reject the offer, but please hear me out!_

_Nii-chan offered to get Inuoka (the one who drove you last time) to ‘deliver’ you guys from Gaoling to the Fire Kingdom and you’ll stay with Nii-chan’s advisor’s relative until the party._

_I’ll also send some of my fashionable clothes for Iwa-chan to wear ;P_

_The carriage will arrive on Tuesday, please be ready then._

_I don’t expect a letter as a reply. Your attendance will suffice._

_\- O. Tooru_


	7. Blue Banquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But love is a form of energy, and it swirls all around us." - Guru Pathik, Book One: Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS AS YOU READ: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53rCO8BsKwU
> 
> enjoy!

The wind combed his hair slick like his mother would do right after his bath when he was younger. The carriage trod the trail steadily, and when Hajime stuck his head out the window, he was met with the most beautiful sight. For the sun was dipping, but its warm embrace has yet to leave the surface of the earth. It stretched on to the corners of his eyes, over the green plains of the Earth Kingdom, and through the blown flower petals littering the skyline. Trees as tall as mountains reached for the clouds, and Hajime’s ears gave into the thrum of the forest. The rustling of the leaves as squirrels chased the never ending treeline, the bass line of the horse’s hooves, the dizzying spin of the wheels, and the whistle of the wind.

  
His heart raced in its cage, jumping in anticipation at the thought of seeing Oikawa again. The soft breeze against his cheek was nothing compared to Oikawa’s firm and sure lips. The staccato bumps of the carriage were a mild inconvenience compared to his heartbeat. The horse’s whinnies were millions of decibels lower than the incessant screaming in his head.

“Hey, lover boy, you might wanna stick your head in for a while.”

Hajime was abruptly shoved back to his seat, his back hitting the plush velvet cushion with a rough _hmpf_. “Hey!”

“Quiet it for a sec,” Mattsun hissed, his palm stiffly pressed against Hajime’s chest.

Over his unsteady breathing, Hajime could faintly pick up the syncopation of another horse’s hooves and another carriage’s wheels. Their carriage slows to a stop as Mattsun hastily sealed the window with the loose satin curtain. The horse neighs and their driver called out a greeting that Hajime has never heard before. Then, a different, more bashful voice answered.

“The minister ordered us to visit the enclave. There’s a guest coming through there apparently.”

Their driver inquires amicably of their guest and the answer caused Hajime to furrow his brows deeper. “Yeah, his son is invited to Prince Tetsurou’s coming of age feast tonight.”

There was a short period of silence before their driver bids goodbye. Hajime’s calves absorb the thrum of the horse’s trots, but the movement came to a halt.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you around on errands lately. Why’s the Fire Lord sending you to the enclave?”

Beside him, Mattsun’s breath hitched and Hajime fists his hand on the plush cushion of his seat. His chest his heaving, and fingers turned into noodles as limp as the ones his mum cooked for dinner last night. Their driver laughs it off, Inuoki? No, Inuoka, Inuoka made a chirp response.

“The Fire Lord requested extra workers for the feast tonight. I fetched some from Jang Hui.”

Silence invaded the carriage again, and swallowed Mattsun and him whole.

“Oh, okay. Are we still up for Agni Kai in a fortnight?”

Their driver laughs. “Of course.”

Then the horse whinnied and trotted up the trail with the echo of Hajime’s relieved sigh.

  
“Oikawa’s older brother’s the crown prince,” Hajime explained in hushed whispers, “he has a party tonight for his eighteenth birthday because of royalty and stuff.”

“Okay,” Mattsun hummed, “How are we supposed to blend in the nobility when all Oikawa gave us are these rags?”

Hajime eyed the patchy shorts that were folded neatly on the carriage’s seat when it arrived. “We just have to. His brother knows about us, but he’s not mad.”

“Are you sure?”

Hajime fixed him a look. “Oikawa wouldn’t lie to me. He didn’t mean to forget to reply, he was just busy with Hanamaki, and that’s fine. They were going through a rough time. I wouldn’t let him get hurt, and I’m sure he wouldn’t let me get hurt.”

The two friends kept at the staring contest. Hajime knew, deep down, Mattsun acted like a preyed badger mole because he’s worried; however, he can’t keep the tremors from his fingers and the rapid heaving from his mouth. Hajime knew that no matter how much he cherished Oikawa, Mattsun came first.

Mattsun’s opinion is law.

The horses thundered down the street. They were passing the markets now. Busy and full of life, a sharp contrast to the hollowness Hajime felt mingling with his innards. The carriage bumped raucously against the stone gravel. There are men and women bargaining over the other, screaming at another, and chatting to another. The stink of fresh fish and the accompanying buzz of the flies. It’s so loud, but Hajime can’t hear anything above the silence in the carriage.

Mattsun tore his eyes away; eyebrows slumped to their default state. “Fine, whatever, man. I’ll check him out.”

There’s a strange bubbly laugh that wanted to escape from his throat, but he swallowed It down with a solemn smile.

“Thank you.”

 

  
Inuoka stopped the horses in a serene atmosphere. Even from inside the carriage his ears detected the chirp of cicadas and the splash of running water. He recalled Oikawa’s garden, full of colour and peace and felt his itchy heart calm down.

The door to their carriage swung open and they were faced with Inuoka, already pulling down the stepladder from behind the wheel. When Hajime jumped off and finally made sense of his surroundings he realised that this was the exact same place he departed from almost two months ago.

“Wow, is the Fire Nation always this humid? Move over, Iwaizumi, I also want to get off the carriage.”

Hajime stepped aside and watched as his best friend set foot on the land he wished he was born in. Beside him, Inuoka made way to retreat back to the driver’s seat.

“Nah,” Inuoka replied while taking off the horses’ harnesses, “it just happens to be the rainy season, which reminds me…”

“Prince Tooru will be here shortly. I’ve notified Hanamaki-kun to fetch him for me.”

Mattsun froze. “Hanamaki-kun?”

Hajime felt a sly grin tug at his lips and he nudged Mattsun’s side only to receive a shove back. His friend looked ready to spit roast him when a flash of pink came bouncing towards them.

“Ah! Iwaizumi-kun, you’ve arrived. Oikawa cannot see you right this moment, but…”

Oikawa’s advisor’s words trailed off into a sharp inhale. Hajime’s eyes flitted between the two, and it showed a great deal when Mattsun had forgotten about their petty bickering a moment ago as he locked eyes with the young advisor.

“Makki?” Mattsun asked timidly.

The advisor’s steps came to a halt. “Mattsun?”

Slowly, a smile crawled onto Mattsun’s face. “Yeah.”

Hajime and Inuoka shared a look as the other two parties blushed furiously at the ground. Deciding that the most sensible thing to do was to be the middle ground as a mutual friend of the two, Hajime stepped forward and clapped Hanamaki’s shoulder, momentarily blocking his line of sight to Mattsun.

“Hanamaki-kun! How have you been?”

That had snapped the young advisor back to reality and he responded with an honest smile. “Ah, I’ve been well. However, the sun is still light and by orders of the crown prince I am to escort you to our lower dungeons.”

Hajime jerked his hand away. “Huh? Dungeons? What the hell is this?”

Hanamaki’s smile slipped off his face and he jolted his shoulders. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t realise how that would sound like. The crown prince told me to keep you in the halls near the dungeons so you can get ready and stay there without anyone finding out.”

Behind him, Mattsun exhaled heavily. “Good grief, Hiro.”

Hanamaki flushed and turned around. “This way!”

 

  
The dungeons Hanamaki led them to were not what he was expecting. It was lavish. The cold stones were warmed with softly lit lanterns and the actual cages themselves were turned into personal lounges. As he strolled past several he noticed one had a burgundy rug and matching maroon sofas arranged into a cube, one with a large tank filled to the brim with water and bright green algae, which covered the fishes swimming around.

“What is this place?” Hajime whispered, even though Hanamaki told him that they were the only ones down there, it was easy for the uneasiness to clutch his heart. Being at the enemy’s territory had that effect.

Then there was one with a scorched life-sized target doll and scorch marks all over its walls, this was the darkest cage. There were no lanterns, nor did the hum of the lantern behind them reach it, it seemed like an endless black hole ready to swallow Hajime’s trespassing-self whole.

But Hanamaki kept walking, paying no attention to the cage he just passed.

“This is the prince's secret lair… of sorts,” he told them flippantly, “that cage we just passed used to be where they kept Tetsu-sama when he went berserk before he knew how to control his bending.”

Hanamaki led them into an open space. It wasn’t truly open since it wasn’t the outside, but Hajime could deal. The ceiling was surprisingly high for an underground lair, and the place was well lit. Across the expanse were couches, a kitchen, a scorched and dusty mat, a coffee table, and by the far left were large shelves.

“Oikawa doesn’t like coming here anymore since the accident, but Tetsu-sama usually comes by once a day to lose the elders or Yaku-san off his back,” Hanamaki informed them. He stopped when the two visitors were both in the room and turned so they were all facing each other.

“You can stay here until I come fetch you in four hours. The party does not start until six in the evening, but if you keep it down I can disguise you as lower nobility of neighbouring towns of my acquaintance. There’s a closet over there,” he pointed to somewhere on the left, “please change into suitable though I suppose I should remind you that those are the princes’ outwear, so do your best to tame down the prince look, okay?”

Mattsun was quick to grab onto the pink advisor before he brushed by them towards the exit. “Uh… wait! You’re not staying?”

Hanamaki smiled, then scowled at the floor. “I can’t. Yaku-san wants me to go over my ‘duties’ for tonight or whatever.”

“Oh…”

“Sorry, Issei! Bye, Iwaizumi-kun,” he waved at them before running towards the entrance.

For a second, they watched the pink hair diminish into the dark exit, then Hajime barked out a laugh. “Issei, huh?”

Mattsun’s whole body seemed to burn red. “Shut up!”

 

  
It was hard to count the hours inside a dungeon since they had no access to light, but Hajime found time to be slipping quite quickly as he and Mattsun made nice of the secret lair. Mattsun was as good as he in bending, but his speciality was not in combat. He was able to smack his hand against the walls of the lair and reported to Hajime that they were, at the least, ten floors underneath. Hajime and he explored the space until its last metre square. Mattsun freshened up the algae inside the mini aquarium and the fishes shake their tails happily. Hajime formed a ‘rock seat’ in the shape of a throne to thank Oikawa’s older brother for his hospitality. Time passed by and they were suddenly in red clothes and following Hanamaki upstairs discretely, laughing like proper friends whenever they meet a castle official.

The walk to Oikawa’s room wasn’t long, he knew that, but to Hajime, it felt like years. His feet refused to corporate, and his body was excessively producing sweat as if he was running a marathon as fast as a cheetah. Ahead of him, Mattsun and Hanamaki were making small talk and sharing plans for weekends they’d never see, leaving Hajime alone to wallow in anxiety. Then they were in front of his door.

Oh, lord. _His_ door.

Said door swung open and he was engulfed with warmth as a pair of arms snake around his neck. “Iwa-chan!”

They hung out inside Oikawa’s locked room. Mattsun and Hanamaki were sat next to each other on Oikawa’s bed, and vice versa to Oikawa and he. Hajime introduced Mattsun to the prince, and in turn, Oikawa laughed in glee for finally meeting Makki-chan’s Iwa-chan!

They chatted about nothing and everything useless, going so far back to how he and Oikawa met. It was good that Oikawa had jumped at the opportunity of telling the story because Hajime could just tune in and watch Oikawa animatedly list off the night that led them here. Oikawa wore gold earrings that drooped low pass his neck, and on it were meticulous carvings that seemed to imitate a ball of fire. He was red. A red, long-sleeved top, with a darker shade of red chest plate, and red trousers stapled with sparkly golden twirls that reached up to his thigh and then wrapped around his ankles.

“Iwa-chan, you’re staring,” Oikawa teased. Mattsun and Hanamaki barked into a fit of laughter, pointing accusing fingers at him and slapping each other’s thighs. Hajime scowled.

“You’re wearing earrings,” he said lamely, refusing to look the prince in the eye.

Oikawa’s mouth formed an ‘o,’ “Ah, yes, apparently they were my mother’s. I’ve decided to wear them to support Nii-chan today. He really doesn’t deserve father’s careless orders of marriage.”

“You’re right about that,” Hanamaki called out. Hajime slyly observed that the advisor and his friend were leaning back so far that their arms were touching. He grinned at Mattsun’s red ears.

Below there was the echo of horses’ trots and the click-clack of the spinning carriage wheel on stone tiles.

“Huh,” Oikawa huffed, “wonder who that could be, arriving this early.”

The four of them crowd and piled against another to hide against Oikawa’s balcony. From their vantage point, Hajime overlooked the garden and focused entirely on the carriage rolling up from the back gates.

“That’s where we came from,” Mattsun whispered. Oikawa made a noise of confirmation.

Hanamaki curled his lips. “Wouldn’t a guest go through the front gates? Why would this one, totally not one of ours, go through the back?”

Hajime’s eyes tracked the movement of the scene acutely. The driver with a stool already placed below the exit so the passenger could get off safely, held the door of the carriage open. There was no one for a moment before a person donned with the reddest clothing Hajime has ever seen, stepped off daintily onto the ground. Their head fixed downwards as a woman stepped off right after.

“Isn’t that… Isn’t that Lady Kozume of the Eastern islands?”

Oikawa hummed in agreement, “Yeah. There’s only one woman in the entire nation who could pull off all those rubies just for a party. But if that’s Lady Kozume, then the child must be Kenma-san!”

“Kenma-san?” Hajime asked. If they were recognised nobility, why would they enter the same gates as the workers?

“Un,” Oikawa supplied then worried his bottom lip, “they are the fourth ranked nobility in the nation. Kenma-san, despite how scrawny he looks from up here, is their heir and most skilled swordsman.”

“Swordsman?” Mattsun shrieked, “that kid’s barely larger than my thumb!”

Hanamaki nodded beside him. “I wonder what he’s doing here, though... Kenma-sama barely attends parties like these due to his love for training.”

The group of four watched silently as the Lady led Kenma-san past the horse stable before rounding the corner and disappearing from their eyesight.

“Oh, well,” Oikawa sighed and promptly plopped on the bed, “who wants to play Domino Candle with me?”

“Oikawa, that’s dangerous.”

“Shut _up_ , Makki-chan.”

 

  
The party, as to be expected, was extravagant. The castle workers were dressed so fine that they were nearly indistinguishable with the guests. Hajime was instructed to not walk next to Oikawa for the early night, but to stick to Hanamaki and Mattsun as they were under the disguise of his friends.

The tables were lined with food ready to feed an entire kingdom. There were noodles that were fried, or steamed and even soup. Lychee nuts served in little bowls by waiters and grilled fish on a never-ending queue of silver trays. Hajime gawked at the feast table.

“How are they going to finish all of this?” he squeaked. Hanamaki grinned.

“They usually don’t go all out, but since the crown prince has come of age…”

Just then, a loud gong echoed through the hall and the many heads of guests perked up at the sound. Hajime eyed Hanamaki, a silent question, but the pink advisor was hushing Mattsun and pointing at the far end of the hall. Hajime squinted at the direction and was not surprised to see a short podium on top of a raised stage.

“Guests! Good evening,” bellowed the announcer on stage. Like everyone else, he wore red and was joyous for the occasion. The polite chatter amongst the crowd dimmed into silence.

The announcer coughed and beside him, Hanamaki whispered to the two of them, “He’s Yaku-san, Tetsu-san’s advisor.”

“I humbly welcome you to the Fire Palace for this joyous occasion. Without further ado, please welcome the Fire Lord!”

The once shushed crowd roared into life. There were cheers and claps, some of the guests were even hollering praises at him, and the Fire Lord took it with stride. When the man stepped onto the podium and raised his head, Hajime gulped.

_God, oh god. That’s the Fire Lord._

The Fire Lord, conqueror of all, hell-breaker, a man of injustice as dubbed by the rest of the world was right in front of his eyes. If the red robes he and Mattsun had slipped into and so carelessly blending into the crowd had somehow dulled back into the greenery he was taught to wear right here right now he knew would never see the sunrise again.

_Oh. God._

Hajime was fine in the confines of Oikawa’s room, he was ok when Oikawa’s brother caught him, but this was the Fire Lord. His word is law.

The man on the podium, the Fire Lord, his brain hissed, unhinged his jaw and began making pleasantries that Hajime’s ears were too busy ringing to catch. His breath was slow but uneven. His fingers were cold, but his palm sweaty. He had the unnerving urge to make a run for it, but his body was frozen still.

“Psst, Iwaizumi.”

“Iwaizumi.”

A rather rough nudge to his ribs followed by a cautious hand slapping itself onto his mouth to swallow a groan of pain. “What?” he hissed.

Hanamaki sent him a micro glare from beside Mattsun then, “The speech ended. Come this way, you’re in the way.”

A loud ring caused his head to throb as he finally took in his surroundings. The podium, which was where the Fire Lord had stood was vacant and showed no signs of further announcements being made by the nobility. Around him people were bustling around, the noise of chatter accompanied by a bouncy tune flooded his eardrums.

_Was he really that out of it?_

“Mattsun, your friend is being weird. Let’s just go and get some dumplings already,” whined Hanamaki.

Hajime snapped quickly from his trance and eyed the two of them. Hanamaki wore a pout that dragged his eyes down to droop like a sad character drawn in children’s storybooks. He clung onto Hajime’s friend; Hanamaki’s hands perched up on his shoulder where he rested his chin, sagging Mattsun’s right shoulder. Meanwhile, Mattsun peered down on him and their faces were so close that if Hajime had not intervened, Mattsun would’ve pressed the micro grin onto the pink boy’s lips.

“Hey, Hanamaki, where did you say the dumplings were again?”

The trio scavenged for the national delicacies and scoured their plates empty. Occasionally, they would come to a halt as Hanamaki would animatedly narrate the history of the castle and the childish memory of he and Oikawa of it. Hajime noticed, however, that Hanamaki would only refer to him when Oikawa was mentioned. Otherwise, Hanamaki was perfectly content with staring up at Mattsun as he rambled on and on. While Hajime did felt the on-off feeling of being the third-wheel, he found that he didn’t mind it much. Again, it was nice to see his friend be so enraptured by something other than plants.

 _At least Hanamaki talks back to him_ , he thought.

Hajime was just about to dive into rehash on those flaky fire cakes when a warm hand clapped on his shoulder. “Iwa-chan,” chimed Oikawa.

In front of them, Hanamaki and Mattsun were in a fit of giggles as they try to subtly point at the balding man losing himself to the tune of the orchestra in the middle of the dance floor. Hajime turned and saw the young prince shinier than ever.

Back in his chambers, Oikawa had not dressed this finely. Then again, Hajime and the gang (as in the gang of trespassers) were kicked out just before the event so that they could go mingle (as in hiding in plain sight) while Oikawa was sent off to do his princely duties (as in looking pretty. Very pretty.)

Now, though, Oikawa is bedazzled with gold. Handcrafted bangles with swirly designs crawled up both of his arms as a matching golden crown sat atop his fixed hair. The gold and the warm red went together in harmony and complemented Oikawa’s eyes so well… Hajime gulped.

“Oi, Shittykawa, where have you been?” he scowled instead.

Oikawa grinned and slyly slipped his fingers between Hajime’s under his extravagant cape. “I wanna show you something.”

For the third time that night, Hajime was whisked away.

In the midst of the party, Oikawa weaved them through the populace with a grace that Hajime was (obviously) swooned by.

_Can he get any more pathetic?_

He tasted fire cakes, muffled his grin, and drank all twenty types of juices of the Nation while his fingers are still between Oikawa’s. It was hard to differentiate the difference between the strong thrum of the drums and his racing heart, but Hajime managed to keep himself composed enough to be dragged around the party until Oikawa sharply tugged at his hand and lead them askew from the crowd.

“Oi! Where are we going?” Hajime asked, a hint of laughter still clipping at his voice. Oikawa only smiled at him and urged him on silently.

They arrived in a balcony, far away from the bustling party inside. The only light came from the party and the soft hum of the moon above them. The wind tickled his neck, but Hajime remained still, not wanting to take his eyes off the smiling prince just yet.

“So, any reason you dragged me here?” Hajime eyed the prince.

Oikawa softly tore his eyes away from the moon and when they met, Hajime’s breath hitched in his throat. Oikawa offered his arm and bowed until Hajime could see the spiral of his head.

“May I have this dance?”

  
_Oh shit._

Hajime bit his inner cheeks and willed the blood rush to his cheeks to slow. He bowed his head so that Oikawa couldn’t pick up the wide smile forcing itself on Hajime’s face.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, finally showing his bratty side again. Hajime could finally breathe. Things were normal. He can handle this. “You’re supposed to answer me.”

“You’re such a brat,” Hajime hissed, but he doubts his voice was as harsh as he wanted it to be judging by the smug smile creeping up the prince’s face. Hajime takes his hands. “How are we even going to do this?”

Oikawa snorts as if he had just heard the dumbest thing to ever come out of someone’s mouth. Hajime scowled.

“Like this, Iwa-chan.”

And, wow, Hajime has heard multiple whispers growing up from the girls in his class of hopelessly romantic stories with a prince who swept them off their feet and dropped everything to be by their side.

Growing up, Hajime had wished to be that prince.

However, having a prince of his own isn’t that bad either.

Oikawa’s hand clasped in his guided them back and forth under the moonlight. The music from the hall swells with the high trill of the strings and the accompanying thump of the bass. Hajime forced himself to fix his eyes on the prince, to not cave into his awkward self and look elsewhere because he knew he’d regret not taking in the moment. Oikawa’s steps are firm, sturdy, and sure following the soft rhythm of the ensemble. Hajime doesn’t know what princes do, but if they took dance classes… well, Oikawa’s were surely paying off.

Then Oikawa’s free hand that had rested so warmly on Hajime’s shoulder dropped lower and lower until it rested on his hips and pulled him until their chests bumped against the other. Hajime stuttered out a breath.

“Oi,” he tried to snap, but his voice wavered and sounded way too rough to be his own. Oikawa dipped down, stupid jerk grew taller than him in the two months they’ve been apart. The

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa leant his forehead against Hajime’s, his words a hot whisper against his dry lips. “I’ve missed you…”

When the hell did he become so suave?

Hajime couldn’t trust his voice to carry what he wanted to say. His fingers were rigid cold and his palms were sweaty. With his feet firmly planted on the ground, Hajime tipped his head and whispered, “Me too.”

Then he sealed their lips together in a timid embrace.

 

* * *

 

Their moment was garrulous, and Hajime’s heart ached when it stupidly reminded him that this was like the first time they met. Under the moonlight, hiding their identities in the shadow, and consumed by the adrenaline of sneaking around toying with the boundaries.

A while ago, Oikawa complained about how his feet hurt from having to stand all day since this afternoon and Hajime found himself being pulled down onto the smooth, cool stone tile. Currently, Hajime had his back atop Oikawa’s chest and his head leaning on the side of Oikawa’s face. Oikawa’s arm was draped over his shoulder and onto his chest, fingers thrumming along to the beat from the hall.

“Yeah, and then Mattsun told me that I wasn’t even holding your letter! I was shouting at the poor man for no reason.”

Oikawa giggled under him and his arm shifted a little, dragging Hajime closer until their faces were practically mushed together.

“So insensitive, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa hummed. Hajime harrumphed noncommittally and swatted at his arm, “Whatever…”

“Oikawa!” came a hushed cry.

Beneath him, Oikawa jolted upright, but Hajime was quicker. He was already on his feet, eyes alarmed when Hanamaki and Mattsun poked their head out to their balcony. Upon entering, Hanamaki’s first reaction was to scan the area for the prince. Mattsun caught Hajime’s eyes then and a silent conversation passed between the two of them.

 _What happened?_ Hajime asked.

Mattsun raised an eyebrow. _As if I would know._

“Nii-chan asked for me?”

Hajime redirected his attention back to Oikawa who was now standing next to him, a disgruntled scowl on his face. Hanamaki nodded and his hand shot out to grip Oikawa’s wrist. Before they knew it the prince was tugged back into the ballroom in a whoosh, leaving their two guests in the dark. Hajime clicked his tongue.

“Come on. We need to find them before we get lost,” said Hajime curtly, only to be responded by a short nod and then they were off.

They trace the prince and his advisor into a dimly lit hallway restricted from the rest of the guest. How they managed to sneak past multiple guards was beyond Hajime, but apparently, Oikawa was a soft spot to everyone so just a bark of ‘they’re my friends’ was enough for the firebenders to back off and bow their head respectfully.

It wasn’t the first time Hajime saw the inner walls of the castle; however, he wasn’t used to the sudden realisation that if he had just walked a few steps further he would be stepping into the Fire Lord’s chamber.

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sent him a breathless smile, “my father will be too preoccupied with all the nobility visiting. I doubt they’ll let him escape.”

Beside him Matsukawa eyed the dark halls with a squint, shoulders squared and feet trod the castle tiles cautiously. It was simple to forget that while Matsukawa had redirected his interest to floras, he was the second top of the class along with Hajime in the academy. Had he not quit several years ago, Hajime was sure that his friend would’ve been elected for class president.

  
“What?” Mattsun’s voice was clipped, but Hajime never took that tone as rude. He knew his friend didn’t mean so. The only things audible within these walls were their heavy breaths and steady footfalls as they follow their interests’ rushed steps. Mattsun spared him a quick look and Hajime tore his eyes away.

“Nothing. I was just… I just remembered you used to be in the academy.”

Mattsun’s steps stuttered then he clicked his tongue at Hajime. “Stupid Hajime. Why would you be thinking about that in a time like this?”

Hajime shrugged as their two hosts decelerated in front of an arched wooden door. As he looked around, the three of them appeared just as flustered as he felt. Oikawa’s chubby ivory cheeks were tinted a pretty pink, and the sheen of sweat on his face made him glisten under the torchlights. He cleared his thoughts, hoping the action would clear his head.

“Is this it then?” he asked, a thumb gestured to door beside him. He was met with silence as Oikawa’s hesitant fist knocked on the door.

The four of them waited, swallowed whole by silence. Hajime’s heart thundered in his chest. Was this it? Was this how he was going to be found?

Then the door creaked open and through came a ray of light licking at their toes. There was no noise but the storm of anxiety inside of him, but then a brittle voice called for them.

“Tooru?”

Oikawa’s hand jerked backwards before he took a tentative step inwards. “Ah, yes?”

There was thumping on the opposite side, and then something (or someone) was definitely moving. On instinct, Hajime repelled himself backwards a few steps just enough so that he would be able to escape should the occasion rose. In his peripheral vision, he saw Mattsun doing the same and sighed as relief bathed him. At least he wasn’t alone.

There was a head, shadowed by the light behind them, that popped through the gap. His dishevelled hair reached upwards and downward and every direction in between, and his eyes were that of a cat’s: bright even in the dark. The head easily towered over the four of them, but when they stepped out and came into the light Hajime recognised the face immediately.

Oikawa Tetsurou, the crown prince of the Fire Nation.

The crown prince’s eyes were fixed on his younger brother but then flit across to Mattsun before ending up on his. As their eyes met, there was a flicker of realisation though it left as quickly as it came.

“I see you brought your…” he trailed, eyeing Hajime. “ _Friends_.”

Hajime gulped, hastily averted his eyes everywhere else but the crown prince.

Oikawa cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Actually, nii-san, Iwa-chan is…”

“From the Earth Kingdom, right? And so is the other new one.”

Hajime’s veins froze. His heart struggled to clench itself. His lungs were throbbing. His eyes were hot.

“Hey, hey, dude, it’s alright,” the voice called for him but it was as if they were underwater.

_He was vibrating._

_Wait, no._

_Someone was shaking him._

His eyes tried to gain vision, shooing the black rims away with a rapid succession of blinks. Soon enough, the cloudy haze disappeared and then appeared a pale face with extremely dark hair so long that they whispered against Hajime’s forehead.

It took a second, but as soon as Hajime realised it was the crown prince a jolt of shock sent him upwards and accidentally banged his head against Oikawa’s older brother. The two let out identical groans while Hajime wondered if he would ever recover from the embarrassment.

There was laughter. Hajime remembered. The second start to this already crazy ride.

Hajime may not have known Hanamaki or Oikawa for very long, but he does have a thing for picking peculiar things up such as lilt to a voice when saying a particular word. Well, anyway, the easiest homophone to pick up is always someone’s laughter. There’s Oikawa’s who, when submerged in glee, is piercing like a lightning strike while Mattsun’s is more of a heavy bark that only rung once or twice. Hanamaki, he’s sure, owns a very common type of laughter. He would start out strong with an enthusiastic guffaw before simmering out into a breathless sigh. He’s not so sure about what the crown prince’s laugh sounded like, but he knew the moment he heard that laughter it couldn’t be his. It was too light, too sadistic and guarded. If Oikawa and he were blood relatives, then his laugh would most likely contain the same gaudy edge and a sly smile.

Just as soon as the laugh erupted, it silenced again. His peers snapped their heads around in the same manner a dog would when they smelled something nice. The crown prince, however, frowned and steadily rose, offering Hajime a hand.

“Ah, Tetsu-san, only someone as idiotic as you could manage to make the future Fire Lord appear stupid.”

The first thing Hajime remembered was a pale barefoot, a limb toeing from darkness to the light, revealing itself to the world. Then it was the colour blue.

It wasn’t dark blue like midnight, or light blue like the sky on a calm, sunny day. No, it was near translucent. It was the colour of the cloud as the birds soar through the sky, the colour of a rain drop as it falls on Hajime’s cheek, the colour of his baby blanket when he was an infant, it was the colour of truth.

Hajime was aware that he was gaping like a fish out of water, but the owner of the voice was almost too mystical to be real. Their fair hair fan out into wisps of starry blond curls that made their hazel eyes shine. Their cloak (what the hell?) looked like it was soaked in holy water, its bluish hue was calm as it draped over his slim shoulders. It seemed that he was in a bathing robe because its shimmery end pooled by his feet carelessly, calmly like the pond in Oikawa’s garden.

_Wait. Blue?_


	8. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is it your own destiny? or is it a destiny someone else has tried to force on you? - uncle iroh, avatar: the last airbender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed
> 
>  
> 
> a.k.a. the penultimate chapter before we launch to the present!! next chap is going to be kurotsuki centric btw so if ur not up for it u can just wait for the next one
> 
> come say hi~
> 
> tumblr: chessokay.tumblr.com  
> twitter: nikiforovkun

“Tsukki!”

 

Hajime snapped back to reality and saw the crown prince wrestled the mystical blue man inside his chamber, eyebrows pushed together in worry as he frantically looked right and left. Tsukki laughed, an airily sound that bounced freely off the castle’s walls.

 

“Don’t worry. All your father’s guards are way too busy with the party to even come up to your wing.”

 

Hajime doesn’t know why, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tsukki. There was just something in him that made Hajime’s heart pang, something that Tsukki had, but he just couldn’t pinpoint the source of misery.

 

Then.

 

_Then._

 

Then the crown prince leant down and pressed their foreheads together and sighed. It was a breathless relief, an honest and raw reaction. Hajime felt the rush of blood colour his cheeks instantly as he hastily tore his gaze away from the nuzzling couple. He heard a low indecipherable murmur, undoubtedly the crown prince's rough and gravely voice.

 

“You will be the death of me, Kei…”

 

There was a lighter, snarky yet still soft reply.

 

“I better be.”

 

A pregnant silence ensued as Hajime force himself to stare at the direction they came from, to not intrude on whatever moment the crown prince and the man were having, but a choked cough made itself known within the intimidating silence and Hajime knew that irritable, idiotic, impulsive (yet endearing) act and who it belonged to because a second later there was a loud shriek followed by a frustrated stomp.

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

When Hajime turned around, Oikawa was on his feet with his hands fisted in his brother’s maroon robe. The crown prince jerked out of the embrace so roughly that he nearly toppled over Oikawa had the mystical man not grabbed his robe and tugged him back up at the last second. The man shot Oikawa a glare even though the young prince did not spare him so much as a side-glance.

 

“What is this?” Oikawa hissed, eyes not angry but intense with confusion and hesitation.

 

The crown prince smacked his brother’s hand away, ignored the shocked gasp Hanamaki squeaked out and stepped back to Tsukki’s side. He straightened his posture, tucked his chin, and bent his head down to hold eye contact with Oikawa.

 

“I kept quiet about your friends, and I would appreciate if you would do the same with mine,” his words bore no threat but it still sent a chilling shiver down Hajime’s spine. It dragged its fingers between its ribs, and Hajime held his breath in fear of having his ribs torn out one by one.

 

Oikawa blinked, mouth still pulled into an ugly frown-gasp before it dissolved into a thin line.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

The crown prince regarded his brother’s bowed head and clapped his shoulder once. “It’s fine. Just be quiet from now on. Hurry and get your friends inside, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

 

When the door to the crown prince’s chamber clicked shut behind them, the three commoners shared a look and simultaneously dusted themselves off just, Oikawa sluggishly on their tails donning a blank face. He didn’t look at either of them, but made his way automatically to Hanamaki and whispered something in his ear. The pink-haired boy nodded sternly and clasped his shoulder in a friendly squeeze before he reached his fingers out at Mattsun, who smiled and intertwined their fingers then pulled them further into the room.

 

Finally, Oikawa came to him.

 

He didn’t say anything, and Hajime knew there was no need for words the moment Oikawa slumped and let his forehead fall on his shoulder. Hajime stood still, hoping that he wasn’t hurting Oikawa’s neck too much from being too short to accommodate a more comfortable position.

 

They stay like that for a full five seconds before Oikawa restarted himself. He fixed his perfectly structured cowlicks, brightened his eyes, and sent Hajime a smile. Although it wasn’t the smile he would be blinded by (but a smile that showed the cracked surface he was trying so hard to conceal,) Hajime’s heart stuttered nonetheless.

 

“Let’s go,” whispered Hajime.

 

Oikawa bumped their temples once.

 

“Okay.”

 

 

 

 

“His name is Tsukishima Kei, and he’s from the Southern Water tribe. I met him four years ago when I was training at sea. The ship had to restock urgently because we were running out of food and coal for the next month so we sailed into the first land we saw, which just happened to be the edge of the Southern Water tribe. It was love at first sight.”

 

Tsukki swatted the crown prince’s shoulder playfully and smirked. “Liar. You just wanted someone passive enough to let you in the town.”

 

A Cheshire grin crawled on the crown prince’s face and he leant into his lover’s space. “Tsukishima Kei, from the moment I saw you I thought you were hot.”

 

“You’re gross,” Oikawa said suddenly. The two elders halted their flirting before they shared amused sniggers. “Wait,” Oikawa shot up from his spot on the floor, “ _four years_?”

 

Hajime sat crossed legged on the lavish maroon rug with his peers. Oikawa took the spot right by his brother’s feet. The couple sat on top of the majestic bed in the centre of the room, occasionally trading Eskimo kisses. The crown prince’s arm slung around Tsukki’s shoulder and the two leant against each other as if it would hurt them physically to have even the slightest fraction of space between them.

 

The crown prince hummed. “Yep, four years ago. They docked the ship by the shore…”

 

“You’re lucky your crew found the edge of the Southern tribe. God knows you wouldn’t be alive if you stopped at the Northern entrance,” Tsukki interrupted the crown prince. Oikawa’s older brother nodded his head.

 

“True. Luckily, they sent me instead of those barbaric bozos to get resources because I was still young and could pass off as a citizen. I bumped into Tsukki at the market and here we are.”

 

The crown prince tightened his arm around his lover and pulled the man closer to him. Tsukki’s blank smirk melted into a warm smile.

 

Hajime wondered if he could ever do that to Oikawa one day.

 

Oikawa was a fish out of the water. His mouth hung wide as broken words tried to climb its way out.

 

“So… so you had a _friend_ , too? _This whole time_?”

 

The young prince tried his best to not sound betrayed. He made sure his sentences were not clipped at the end and flowed out of his mouth softly as if it were a genuine question and not an accusation.

 

“This whole time,” the crown prince repeated. Oikawa sat back down, his mind going a mile a minute. “Actually, there’s something else I need to talk to you about, Tooru. Come and join me in the hallway while we let our… _friends_ get acquainted.”

 

He squeezed his lover once then let him go with a wink and sauntered out of the chamber with Oikawa hot on his tail, firing off questions at him like a cannon.

 

Tsukishima Kei stared longingly at the door. With a soft click, the prince’s chambers were sealed off from the nation once again. The crown prince’s room contrasted greatly with Oikawa’s whose chamber was blanketed with light for the window and the hum of his candle collection. This isolated, freezing, and dark room was nowhere near what he was used to.

 

The windows were shut closed, and the only light source came from the flicker of exactly three candles within it. One by the entrance, another by the window, and the strongest flame came from on top of a locked chest pushed against the far wall.

 

Swallowed by the dark, Tsukishima strangely fit in.

 

Hajime peered at him curiously. How could he be so calm about this whole trespassing thing when Hajime is scared out of his mind?

 

“Excuse me… Um, Tsukishima-san?”

 

Hajime snapped his head at his friend. Mattsun rested his chin on his two fists in boredom and waited for Tsukishima to answer. When he did, Mattsun straightened himself and asked, “Why aren’t you freaking out like me and Iwaizumi? I mean… we’re literally trespassing a castle.”

 

Tsukishima’s piercing eyes regarded him for a moment then slipped close as he let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t warm, but it was bitter and sharp and too blunt.

 

“You think I’m not scared?”

 

Tsukishima’s eyes snapped open. Two glistening orbs of hazel stared at Mattsun’s unyielding gaze.

 

“I’m scared _shitless_ ,” he hissed, eyes were blown wide, “Holy _shit_. I’m literally coming up with three different escape routes just in case someone wrong sees me. My heart is literally having a seizure from all this anxiety, but,” he stopped his rambles short in a frantic note.

 

Tsukishima fisted his hands atop his lap and his shoulders rose heavily with a deep inhale. After a while, they sagged and Tsukishima’s head lolled forwards, but he never raised it back.

 

“I know that... if I’m ever separated from him, I wouldn’t be hurting alone. That keeps me grounded. That keeps me still,” Tsukishima stated firmly. Then, the crown prince’s lover shook his head with a scoff of disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m pouring out my feelings to three kids, ugh.”

 

Silence crept upon them until Hanamaki’s lilted voice spoke up. “Wait, you’re plotting three different escape routes, which means that you’re familiar with this place. Wait, how have I not seen you before?”

 

Tsukishima spared him a glance and gave him the tiniest roll of eyes. “You’ve only been living here for, what? Six months give or take? I’ve been hiding for two years, kid.”

 

Hanamaki nodded seriously as if he was really taking into account the rude reply Tsukishima gave. Then, voice dripped in honey and joy, he asked, “Will you tell me all the good hiding spots? I can never find any more good ones and Oikawa is too good at both hiding and seeking!”

 

Tsukishima laughed. “Fine. As long as you won’t tell anyone I exist.”

 

“Never!” Hanamaki cried out. “So… are you, like, Oikawa-san’s… fiancé?”

 

Tsukishima’s pale cheeks flushed. “Wh-what? You… you _kids_ these days are so… _so wild_.”

 

A heartbeat passed.

 

“How did you know you love the crown prince?” Hajime heard himself ask. When he realised his mistake, he was too late. Tsukishima eyed him cautiously from the bed.

 

“You’re Tooru’s… _friend_ , aren’t you? The one Kuroo-san found sneaking off with a castle’s carriage?”

 

Hajime blushed but kept his gaze steady and firm. “I… yes.”

 

Three heartbeats turned to five, turned to ten until Tsukishima’s shoulders sagged and he pulled his knees inwards to rest his chin on them. “Stupid.”

 

Hajime sputtered.

 

“Really? _A castle’s carriage_? You could’ve just worn your green clothes in daylight and walk around the town screaming you’re an earthbender and _that_ would’ve been less dumb.”

 

To his right, Mattsun sniggered into his knee and Hanamaki fought the oncoming fit of laughter. Hajime groaned inside. _God, he needed to find better friends._

 

When he looked back to Tsukishima Kei, Hajime’s blood froze.

 

Tsukishima Kei wasn’t laughing.

 

His brown eyes speculated, tiny slivers of orange flickered on the glasses he wore. It was as if he saw numbers and dashes instead of Hajime’s face. Tsukishima Kei’s lips were in a tight line, eyebrows drew together, and an invisible weight on his shoulders. Disapproving.

 

Tsukishima scowled.

 

Hajime stammered, but before he could retort the doors of the chambers squeaked open and the two Fire Nation princes bounded in a mess of limbs. The crown prince wrestled his way into the room and left a whining Oikawa in his dust.

 

He dared himself to spare a glance at Tsukishima and felt the tension seeped tight within his muscles drain instantly. The blonde’s once-cold eyes softened with a minuscule tug on the corner of his lip. Hajime wondered if he looked the same whenever he saw Oikawa.

 

“Iwa-chan,” whined a brat.

 

Oikawa plopped himself down beside him ever so gracefully, and Hajime struggled to understand how someone so inept was royalty. In front of them, the crown prince dropped onto his bed with the same elegance his younger brother did a few seconds ago and nuzzled at Tsukishima’s neck, a needy cat waiting to be awarded.

 

Tsukishima swatted his thigh with faux scorn. “Tetsu-san.”

 

The crown prince mumbled something indecipherable into Tsukishima’s shoulder just as Oikawa’s head drooped low onto his. Goosebumps raced up his arms, the hairs on the nape of his neck saluted, and there was a heavy yet frantic thrum confined in his ribcage.

 

Hajime shivered.

 

 _From the cold_ , his heart supploed.

 

Oikawa’s silky curls kissed his left cheek.

 

_Yes, the cold._

 

“What are you doing?” he hissed and kept a firm eye on the crown prince. Thankfully, the elder was way too busy purring than paying attention to the indecency Oikawa performed.

 

Oikawa groaned. “Iwa-chan…”

 

He never got to finish his sentence. A fusillade of raps rained on the chamber door in urgency.

 

“Oikawa-san! The Fire Lord requests of your presence at the ball immediately!”

 

Oikawa shot upright, shoulders tense and brows pulled in confusion. Hajime fought the overwhelming urge to run, _to get safe_ , but the warm palm against his lap grounded him.

 

Tsukishima pouted and the crown prince groaned onto the nape of his neck before he willed himself to break the embrace.

 

“Yes, Yaku-san,” the crown prince teased, eyes firm on Tsukishima, “I’ll be there momentarily.”

 

“See that you will do so in a hurry!” the voice boomed from the outside. The crown prince called out an impassive response then promptly bent down only to plant a tender kiss on Tsukishima’s fair head. Hajime thought that if he had to witness (and/or experience [see: Oikawa]) even a one more public act of affection, surely the blood in his veins would stop circulating and rush to his head to explode his skull within seconds.

 

“I’ll be back,” murmured the crown prince to Tsukishima. The blond rolled his eyes but tugged at the prince’s sleeve once more before Tsukishima’s grip loosened.

 

When the crown prince went off, Tsukishima cleared his throat and served Oikawa a placating raised brow. “Shouldn’t you be off, too? Aren’t you, like, the prince as well?”

 

Beside him, Oikawa went rigid. Those brown eyes were calculative instead of the vacant and carefree stare he was used to. He was silent for a whole two seconds before the drippy, gaudy aura came back in full force.

 

“Of course! I have duties to attend to,” Oikawa chirped. Hajime noted that the corner of the prince’s right eye twitched at the end of his sentence, but made no move to point it out. Hastily, Oikawa rose, his flaming robe rolled down with hush against the carpet.

 

“Let’s go, everyone, we wouldn’t like to miss nii-chan’s birthday~”

 

Oikawa’s advisor jolted in his spot before straightening himself quickly. “Right. _Obviously_.”

 

The air within the four walls felt as if it was closing down on Hajime, suffocating his right to breathe. Though with a quick swipe on his wrist, Hajime was tugged up and dragged out the door.

 

“Wait.”

 

The four boys’ steps stopped abruptly, heeding the command. Tsukishima stood by the crown prince’s bed; his right hand enveloped Hajime’s left wrist tightly.

 

“I need to talk to Iwaizumi-kun.”

 

 

 

 

Tooru was never a big fan of change. He liked things to stay constant. Sure, he considered himself quick on his feet and clever enough to understand why certain changes had to be made, but that didn’t make him excited for any form of disruption in his life.

 

So when his brother, the man Tooru knew who only cherished two things in his life (his education and him, obviously,) confessed that he had been keeping a ride or die secret behind his back for four years, Oikawa drowned in confusion.

 

“ _Who was that_ , nii-san?” disbelief dripped off every syllable he pronounced.

 

Tetsurou, to his credit, had a skinny sheen of sweat on his forehead and an uncertain grin on his face. His eyes moved constantly from Tooru’s face to the door and to the winding hallway behind them. Tooru stood in front of him, arms crossed and waited for his explanation.

 

“Uh,” Tetsurou started, “well, you see… wait, you already know how we met. Never mind. Uh…”

 

Something in him shattered. Deep within the crevices of his lungs, a sharp brittle thing edged itself just so that Oikawa struggled to breathe. Right in front of him, his older brother unravelled. Tetsurou’s usually dishevelled hair was on a whole new level of disarray, his hand scratched at his neck at an endless itch, and his front teeth constantly worried the bottom one. The figurative crown that had always been in Tooru’s sight and Tetsurou’s head slipped and clattered noiselessly onto the cobble floor.

 

To see someone as composed as his brother become so nervous like a normal human being was refreshing but overwhelmingly frightening. If this is how nii-san came out after the experience, the doubt that lived in the back of Tooru’s head grew exponentially.

 

It hissed at him and called him names. It reminded him of Iwa-chan, of his safety, of the life he so readily left behind to come meet Tooru for a night. It scolded him for being so reckless and stupid enough to invite two ( _not one, but two!_ ) trespassers into the most hateful castle in the world.

 

“Well, Tooru, I… You met Iwaizumi-kun at the fire festival, right?” the crown prince's voice lifted at the end, unsure.

 

Tooru dragged his gaze up and saw Tetsurou twiddling his thumbs, a habit he picked up when anxious. He saw it when their father caught Tetsurou doing something he shouldn't be, saw it before the first affair meeting Tetsurou was assigned to be in charge of, and he remembered the way his brother kept at it while explaining the truth behind marriage all those years ago.

 

He saw it now while they talk about Tetsurou's secret lover.

 

Tooru startled and felt the blood collect under his eyes. “I thought we were talking about you.”

 

“Yeah,” Tetsurou nodded, “but you met him once and suddenly he’s here, in the castle. How would you begin to explain that?”

 

_He’s stalling._

 

Tooru clicked his tongue. It was not unlikely for his brother to resort to it, but he thought Tetsurou had risen above this. Clearly, this wasn’t the case.

 

“From the beginning,” he deadpanned. Tetsurou’s nervous face fell and he gave his brother a bemused stare.

 

“Very funny,” he snorted, and then the crown prince clicked his tongue, “fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

 

Silence passed and Tooru took the time to examine his brother, soon to be Fire Lord of the Fire Nation and crossed his arms. How was this man able to withstand the torture of his strict education, but got flustered by speaking of his thoughts? How will he stand as the most powerful figure in the world, but stutter at the mention of his feelings? How his brother was still alive was beyond him. Truly, Tooru thought that he would never be able to understand his brother.

 

“Kei is…” at the amused smile that crept up Tooru’s face, Tetsurou shook his head frantically. “No, uh, Tsukishima. He’s very important to me.”

 

“I figured.”

 

A choked laugh cut itself short from Tetsurou’s throat.

 

“Yeah, but… Look, what I’m trying to say is that he’s a person that I… potentially can’t live without? Like, if someone hurt him I’d probably go into a blind rage and, like, hunt that person? The kind of importance that if, potentially, someone found out and took him away I, probably, can’t function normally anymore? Like…”

 

“Nii-chan…” Oikawa trailed off, eyes creased with worry. The crown prince heed him no mind, too invested in his mad rambling to notice his brother stepping away.

 

“I just-”

 

“Just spit it out already.”

 

Tooru loved his brother, he did, but he hated dealing with this Tetsurou. The unsure Tetsurou, the fumbling, ditzy one whose hands trembled, and feet barely rooted to the ground. Was he being unfair? Perhaps, but his brother had smuggled in a foreigner into the castle for years and had decided to finally concede his secrets. He couldn’t spare a second longer.

 

Tetsurou’s eyes flit to him then groaned.

 

“God, Tooru, I’m so over the moon with him.”

 

A pause.

 

The crickets trilled. The wind howled. Tetsurou cleared his throat.

 

In that moment, Tooru took in a sharp inhale. Something shifted in the air and his brother’s golden gaze held him down. It was so serious but so fond and Tooru doesn’t know what to do at the receiving end of a literal tough love. The image of a bumbling, preteen boy who climbed up the trees to get Tooru’s favourite leaves and flowers was shattered.

 

In front of him stood a man, a proud one, too. But he was still so unsure yet confident at the same time. This was a man who had survived the trials of life, of love and won. This was the future Fire Lord.

 

“I think I’m going to propose to him.”

 

 

 

The party was a complete aberration. The hall seemed fuller than it was before they left, which was peculiar as party conventions state that guests were most likely to leave once the clock ticked nine. Hajime guessed that the Fire Nation was just a strange bunch of people.

 

A woman slung an arm around his shoulder and cheered. Her mouth red with lipstick and stretched into a hurrah, then she bounced away and onto the next person. Only when the lady draped herself over her next victim did Hajime notice the flute of alcohol twirled expertly between her fingers.

 

 _They’re strange… or just a bunch of party people,_ Hajime concluded.

 

There were caring ones like the crown prince, the gaudy ones like Oikawa, then the baffling ones who continued the war. Hajime knew from previous letters addressed to him that the Fire Lord was different with his children, though it made little difference when Hajime had personally witnessed countless raids that burned neighbouring cities and countries to the ground.

 

A loud ring echoed throughout the hall, Hajime winced, mindful of the drink he nursed by his side. To his right were the enchanted duo who were supposed to be attending to him, but as Mattsun shot Hajime a pleased smile, he knew their plans could be abated a while.

 

The Fire Lord still dressed in robes galore, stomped onto the stage with confidence. The crowd exploded into cheers and hollers under his gaze.

 

As the devil raised his glass for attention, Hajime peered over with minimal alacrity. Although it was only nine, his muscles ached with exhaustion and his eyes were heavy with sleep. The crowd cheered as the Fire Lord raised both arms up, Hajime divisive.

 

“Everyone! I humbly wish all of you many thanks for attending my son’s, Prince Oikawa Tetsurou, coming of age party!”

 

Once again, the sea of people rumbled with toasts and calls, but the Fire Lord remained exigent.

 

Hajime watched from the very back of the room, jammed between an inebriated man who seemed to have lost his trousers and Mattsun. Hanamaki had been ushered away with Oikawa, as it was incumbent as the prince’s advisor to accompany him at all times. Mattsun only waved him goodbye before he made his way to Hajime and the two worked together to come up with the best way of hiding in plain sight. Sure, their attires helped as a camouflage, but their light eyes and tan skin were definitely abnormal.

 

The Fire Lord raised his cup.

 

“Tonight we celebrate my son, the future of this nation, Oikawa Tetsurou!”

 

Then the crown prince appeared, escorted by a fair-headed man whose clean features suggested he was younger than the prince. Mattsun leant into him then and whispered, “That’s Yaku-san. He’s the crown prince’s advisor.”

 

“Of course. You’d know.”

 

Mattsun nudged his shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

On stage, the crown prince bowed graciously and tipped his head forward, creating a plethora of kindness. The audience’s plaudits roared painfully in Hajime’s ears, and as soon as it quietened down the crown prince nodded his head at the Fire Lord before he stepped forward into the limelight and delivered his gratitude, a winsome smile painted on his face. The partygoers erupted in hurrahs and endless support for their future leader; Hajime wondered how deep their nationalism ran.

 

The spotlight crawled back to the Fire Lord, whose heavy blank gaze fixed on his son. Hajime worried his lip and his heart thrummed heavily in its cage.

 

“I am especially proud of you, my son,” the Fire Lord bellowed, “for today you have become a man. I know that you are especially nit-picky when it comes to your future, but you and I can always agree on one thing: the future of this nation and what is best for it.”

 

“Oh god,” Hajime muttered under his breath, subconsciously retreating until his arm was behind Mattsun’s tall frame as if that would be enough to shield him from whatever pandemonium was about to ensue.

 

The crown prince stood to the right of his father, his arms now crossed over his chest and his brows furrowed. There was almost a defensive stance to his posture, Hajime noted, but he realised that it may just be Oikawa’s brother’s poor back management.

 

“Tonight, I am excited to announce prince Tetsurou’s betrothal with prince Kenma of the Eastern Islands!”

 

Then, the small boy he saw from Oikawa’s window strode on the stage next to the crown prince. He was no longer dressed in the same plain attire but had been glossed over with an excessive amount of glitter and red conspicuous even to his far eyes. On his shoulder was a garnet cape that shimmied past his lean frame down to his ankles that were decorated with golden anklets. He was in a fitted sandstone button up with simple black trousers to match. Hajime narrowed his eyes when he saw that the prince had dyed his hair blond.

 

The crowd went wild and Hajime doesn’t know if his heart was beating or not. Mattsun’s shoulders tensed as he took in a sharp inhale. The Fire Lord’s pleased smiled nearly blinded Hajime, but Tetsurou was a maverick.

 

He stomped up to the Fire Lord, yanked the hem of his robe, and his mouth stretched obscenely.

 

“What’s the meaning of this?” the inimical threat was unsaid but heard. The crown prince’s rage went pass so many heads but struck both Mattsun and Hajime without a miss.

 

He twirled furiously to Kenma. “And you! What are you even doing here? We haven’t talked in ages, Kenma!”

 

“Kuro,” the nickname brought on nostalgia if the crown prince’s suddenly slack shoulders were anything to go by. Kenma huffed a breath in relief.

 

“I wish we could be more amicable to each other while this arranged thing passes. I thought you’d be more relieved to see me.”

 

“I _am_ relieved, but Kenma _what the hell_ is the meaning of all this?”

 

“Enough!”

 

A whoosh of intense anticipation pervaded the room. The Fire Lord’s scream reverberated through the extent, silencing the audience. Hajime hoped this was the end of it, but as the crown prince trudged up to his father, he knew this was only the beginning.

 

“I _will not_ go through with this ordeal,” the crown prince hissed.

 

“Do not be dense, Tetsurou. This is for the future of this nation.”

 

“There has got to be another solution!”

 

“There is no facile option when you are born into this life. In any case, you should be grateful I managed to have Lady Kozume assent to the betrothal. You and Kenma are childhood friends. At least there is some semblance of familiarity. Don’t be a brat.”

 

“But, father-”

 

Even to his exhausted ears, Hajime could detect the edge of desperation on the crown prince’s plea. The crown prince himself was frozen, one arm stretched out toward the Fire Lord. It wasn’t as if the crown prince grovelled, but it was a near picture.   Hajime’s breath stuttered. This was Oikawa’s family. These were the people who shaped him, built him, and destroyed him.

 

“This is not up for discussion, Tetsurou. You and Kenma will be betrothed by the end of the sum-”

 

“No!”

 

The hushed whispers intensified and swelled until the only thing Hajime could hear were the conspiracies of the nation’s future leader.

 

_Was he really fit to rule the Fire Nation?_

_This is what we’re left with?_

_The Fire Lord should just banish him._

 

It went on and on and on and Hajime assayed to keep up, but his attempts were fruitless. There were too many complaints, too many inputs, then the unthinkable happened.

 

Shouts were heard, a stampede, too, before the mayhem swallowed them whole.

 

The crown prince stormed off the stage.

 

-

 

Tetsu exited the banquet hall briskly, wary of following guards and/or advisors.

 

Outside, a storm brewed and lightning stroke the sky. The chaos that bubbled within the hall grew louder and chased Tetsu down the winding ribbon of cobblestones. The clicks and clacks of his heeled shoes became frantic and speedy, without realising it the windows passed in a blur. Stomp after stomp, faster and faster.

 

_How could this happen? God, I knew. I knew that son of a bitch would be too far up his ass to understand._

 

His lungs wheezed for air, but his legs refused to comply.

 

_Oh, god, Tsukki’s still in the room. I can’t let anyone know._

 

The corners of his vision dimmed.

 

_I can’t let anyone know. I can’t let anyone know. I can’t let anyone know._

_I can’t let anyone know. I can’t let anyone know._

_I can’t let anyone know._

_I can’t put him in danger._

_I can’t-_

 

“Oikawa-san!”


	9. Tsukki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once."

The first time Tetsu saw him they were fourteen years old.

He remembers, then, his hair had been way worse off than it had been now. His father had insisted on tying it back so that his crown would fit perfectly with his bun, but, as Tetsu learned, his hair has a mind of its own.

“Don’t you brush your hair?”

The first thing he saw: bright blond, blue, and nimble baby cheeks.

Tetsu hadn’t been wearing his formal attire, but the brushed down version of it. He abandoned his cape, his crown, his golden accessories, and walked bare with only his bare merlot trousers and undershirt.

“Kei!”

The blond boy turned his head languidly but kept his eyes on Tetsu.

_Defiance._

A much older, but nearly identical, boy rushed at him. Large hands hastily came down on the boy’s shoulders and tugged him backwards. The taller of the two glowered at him, crinkled nose and all.

“What do you want?”

_So he recognises me. Weird._

Tetsu cleared his throat, but the boy shook o his restraints. A curious tilt of his head and an owlish blink and Tetsu was enraptured. He’s incorrigible.

“I,” he began, then tore his gaze away from the boy, “I apologise. I understand that the sight of my people is not welcomed, but we merely stopped by to refill our resources. We bring no harm. Just please let me aid my shipmates. We haven’t seen land in a long time.”

The elder’s eyes darted to his red trousers before it burned with hatred, but as Tetsu placed a lacklustre smile on his face, the elder acquiesced to his request.

“Fine. Kei, take him to the market. And you,” he flitted his heavy gaze upon the prince, “if you so much as touch a hair on my brother’s head, I will end you.”

Tetsu gulped, then nodded. “Agreed.”

Kei and he traipsed along the market in peaceful silence. They’d stop occasionally when something caught Tetsu’s interest, but other than that the entire walk had been spent in a respectable manner.

Kei, of course, seemed more bored than friendly. He would arch a brow whenever Tetsu’s pace slowed and then puckered his forehead when Tetsu dragged him to a stall.

He’s treating me like a chore!

They ambled past a few booths before a glint winked at the crown prince and his steps faltered. He whirled to his companion, relieved to find that the blond hadn’t left.

“Hey- uh,” Tetsu pawed at the nape of his neck, “what should I call you?”

Kei’s eyes tracked his arm before he met Tetsu’s curious ones. He pursed his lips. “You can call me Tsukishima.”

“How about Tsukki?”

“How about a punch to the face?”   
  
-

It should come to no surprise that Tsukki rubbed him off the wrong way. He doesn’t laugh at Tetsu’s jokes, he wouldn’t hold eye contact unless inescapable, and he treated accompanying him to the market as a chore! Of course, Tetsu saw him in the worst light, though it would be a lie to say the blond didn’t pique his interest.

There was something so peculiar yet so similar to him that Tetsu was sure it was on the tip of his tongue, but his brain blocked him from such knowledge. So, when Tetsu caught glimpse of a glinting blue necklace and offered Kei to try it on, he assumed that the blond’s wary judgement caused him to slap the crown prince of the Fire Nation.

“Ah!” Tetsu groaned his palm immediately jutted out to cradle his eye. “What was that for?”

But when Tetsu angled his gaze up, he saw a faint dust of pink gather on the higher ends of Tsukki’s cheeks. The blond scowled and glared away.

“That’s a betrothal necklace, you idiot.”

_Betrothal Necklace?_

“Betrothal necklace?” he thought aloud. Tsukishima huffed; the red on his cheekbones drew darker.

“Oh my god, it’s like a ring, you uncultured fool. Honestly.”

At that, Tetsu felt the blood rush up and collect below his eyes. “Oh.”

The crown prince meekly returned the necklace, blushing furiously when the old vendor winked at him, then resumed to his stroll with the blond (who had spaced himself quiet well away from the prince.)

Tetsu groaned inwardly.

_I’m such an idiot._

  
Once the prince had finished his forage and had collected his conglomeration of resources, Tsukki led the mogul back to his warship. Ecstatic crewmen who immediately rushed to their sides to aid them with their shopping greeted the prince with a large round of cheers.

When his hands were finally empty, Tetsu turned to face the blond and bowed deeply. “Thank you for your help. My crewmen and I are indebted to you.”

A choked inhale. “What are you doing? Get up, _oh my god_ , people are staring.”

The crown prince straightened his back and opted to stare down at the tribe member with crinkled eyes. “I’m saying my thanks? Isn’t that what people do when you help them?”

Tsukki averted his eyes, but Tetsu caught the minuscule glance at him.

“Yeah, but you’re wearing red and there’s a warship and even though we’re, like, caved in because of the ice barriers my brother put up, people passing can still peek in you know.”

“Whoa there, that’s probably the most I’ve heard you talked today, Tsukki.”

When the blond snapped his gaze to him and glared, Tetsu grinned and raised both his arms up in peace.

“No, but seriously. I’m very grateful that you helped me,” Tetsu shared him a meaningful looked, eyes open in earnest. “I don’t think my crew and I would’ve survived this squall.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind trampled on them and blew the sails to Tetsu’s ships swollen. Tsukki shifted his weight noticeably to stay up and, enchanted, Tetsu watched as little icicles rose from the berg they stood on and enveloped Tsukki’s boots to the ground. Tetsu’s jaw lowers in awe when the gust left.

“You’re a bender!”

Tsukki’s eyes widened and, in a heartbeat, the ice plunged back into the berg as if nothing had happened. “I- um, I’m not-”

“It’s okay, dude, oh my god! That was so cool! Your ice was all…” tendrils of red petals danced around his ankle as if to reincarnate the moment that had passed, but instead of showing the same elegance and solidity that Tsukki’s pale ice did, the fire burnt through the ice and into the water. Tetsu jumped as a splash of water erected from Berg.

“I’m, uh,” he sputtered, staring at the hole in the Berg.

Then, Tsukki laughed.

His mouth moved freely, a deep contrast to the scowl he tacked on an entire afternoon. The whites of his teeth glimmered underneath the sun, and specks of silver radiated off his blond head. Tetsu’s heart blipped.

“What an idiot,” he giggled and Tetsu willed his mouth to stay still and not join in on the infectious laughter. Instead, Tetsu pouted.

“Sorry.”

Tsukki laughed harder. The crewmen behind them trudged up the ship while the remaining few were reeling in the ships’ anchor. Tetsu huffed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m stupid. Let’s get over it now.”

“I mean,” wheezed Tsukki. The blond was bent double now. “What did you expect to happen? Fire melts ice, stupid.”

“I know.”

Tsukki’s heaved in a breath as Yaku clapped a hand on Tetsu’s shoulder. His advisor peered between them, a glint of mischief before the Cheshire grin was schooled into a bona fide smile.

“Hello, I’m Yaku Morisuke, Tetsu’s advisor. On behalf of our crew, I would like to thank you for your admirable congeniality. Truly, we can’t thank you enough.”

Tsukki’s laughter dissipated into soft exhales and as the blond straightened himself, Tetsu shoulders followed involuntarily. Beside him, Yaku smirked but kept his eyes genuine. Tsukki bowed then nodded, lips tight into a line.

“It’s fine. You guys don’t seem like the violence type anyway,” the blond remarked, eyeing Tetsu’s crewmen who had just begun to sing atop their lungs. He inwardly cursed but realised that he would put himself through this embarrassment if it meant Tsukki’s comfort.

“Just don’t make a fuss when you leave so people won’t think it’s a raid or something,” said Tsukki.

“Very well, then. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Let’s go Tetsurou.”

Yaku made one final bow before he trudged back to the ship, already barking out commands for sails to be set, anchors to be lifted, and engines to be set alight. Tetsu tore his gaze away only to be met by honey irises which glanced away the second they met. Tetsu smirked.

“Well, I guess this is it, Tsukki. Thank you,” he bowed, “for everything.”

Tsukki waved his hand flippantly but refused to retain eye contact. “Yeah, yeah. At least you didn’t come here as a foray or whatever. If there’s anything you need, you know where to call.”

Tetsu knew that Tsukki’s sarcasm was a self-defence mechanism, still, he was born to mischief and so mischief he must cause.

“How about that betrothal necklace?”

Had Tsukki been drinking, he would’ve done a spit-take. The blond’s eyes were wide as saucers, mouth open agape, and cheeks flushed.

“Get out of here already. Oh my god.”

-

The second time they met was when Tetsu had _The Revelation_.

Before then, he had always found Tsukki to be interesting. Captivating. He was anything but ordinary, however, he had not taken in the fact that maybe he liked the water bender a little too much. Sure, at first he hated the way the blond had a quick and sharp mouth, a gaze that was far beyond his age, and a permanent scowl on his face. He reminded him too much of his tutor.

“It looks like you’re in trouble there. Can I help?”

A warm hand grazed his shoulder and he swivelled in his spot.

A boy, much shorter than he, with dotted cheeks and an unruly outlier strand of hair, beamed at him. “Welcome to Omashu! My name is-”

“Yamaguchi!”

_That voice._

It has been months since his last trip that caused him the pit stop at the Southern Water Tribe (and meeting an incredibly stubborn boy.) The wind that hissed and bared its fangs at Tetsu’s face was now a gentle hum blanketing him. Spring was much lovelier here, Tetsu thought, with all the bustling around and fresh crops.

Tetsu whipped his head and as the slightest hint of blond zoomed in his periphery, he forced his body to turn over before it was too late.

Tsukki had yet to grow into his ears, but that was fine. At this age, Tetsu still towered over him without meaning to and Tsukki glared at him from below. The blond skidded to a halt; jaw going slack before it recuperated into a scowl.

“Prince.”

Tetsu smirked. “Tsukki.”

There was a shriek. “Eh? Tsukki? You two know each other? Wow, Tsukki, I didn’t know you had other friends.”

“Yama.”

Tsukki’s lips curled downwards as his brows merged together. Yamaguchi, whose smile radiated brighter than the screaming sun above them itself, merely grinned. Despite himself, the young prince felt tension escape his taut muscles and he sighed a deep exhale before he felt his grin loosen into something more genuine.

It was nice to see someone familiar in the foreign land, especially when you’re on your own.

Tetsu pouted. “Tsukki, I’m upset–”

“Do I look like I care?”

“—because last time you told me to call you if I needed anything. Anything at all.”

“I do not recall.”

“And I needed a lot of things. Like, a lot. But you never even gave me your contact! No address. Nothing.”

“Well, I—”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi snickered, eyes gleaming with something impish but warm. “You guys sound like best friends.”

Whatever Tsukki had to say died in his throat with a choked stutter. For a brisk moment, Tsukki’s eyes widened a fraction, mouth agape in disbelief, and ears so painstakingly pink and Tetsu drank in the sight like he was a man in the desert robbed of water.

It was especially rare, Tetsu realised (much later on in his life,) to see Tsukki flustered; however, with the right moment and the right person, it’s almost inevitable.

“Why don’t you show him around?” Tsukki’s freckled friend stage-whispered, as if turning his back from the prince would block the acoustics provided by the open space. Tsukki blanched.

“But—”

“Tsukishima Kei. Show a brother around, god damn.”

With a final stare off, Yamaguchi was on his way, waving merrily at the two acquaintances. Tetsu shifted his gaze to the blond who pointedly looked at everywhere else but the Prince. He whistled.

“A true Trojan, that friend of yours.”

Tsukki flinched, and Tetsu clenched his fist as if that would prevent the displeasure from swelling deep in his gut. “Yeah, he’s, uh, something.”

Three heartbeats of silence. Tsukki shuffled his feet.

“So, what brings you to Omashu?”

Tetsu near damn cried of relief as his breath escaped him at once. His smile is back on, easily plastering itself on his tranquil face, and he flashed his whites at Tsukki.

“Well, show me around the festival and I’ll tell you.”

 

* * *

 

“My father ordered me to ‘find my way’ whatever that meant, but he practically caged me in the colonial villages.”

Tsukki clicked his tongue. “Sad.”

  
“Totally,” chirped Tetsu. He skidded to a stop and pointed at a random stall. “What’s that?”

Maybe his feigned interest in the festival was too feigned, but Tsukki bit the bait and immersed himself in the explanation. His mouth moved faster than Tetsu thought it could, hands flit around him to punctuate his sentences, and Tetsu has never seen Tsukki in this light before. It was enthralling, new, and something he never wished to forget.

“For someone from the Water Tribe, you’re well versed in the Kingdom, too,” Tetsu said, without thinking.

“Oh. Yeah, well, I like history?”

Tetsu turned to him; grin wide. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Both,” Tsukki inhaled deep, and looked away, “Anyway, about your presence, you basically ran away from your training because you’re a brat, right?”

“Never said those words but continue.”

“How did you get in without anyone noticing you? And how come you’re not wearing your Reds?”

Tetsu crooks his neck down and realised that he was, in fact, not wearing his Reds. Then it got to him.

“Oh,” the prince snapped is fingers, “I was training in a nearby mountain range so I wasn’t wearing my usual clothes… but then I found a cave and you’ll never guess what it was! Crazy story, but I got stuck in some sort of labyrinth? But I got out though!”

When he looked over, the blond’s mouth was downturned with brows stitched together. Then, Tsukki met his eyes.

“So, like, is there gonna be an entourage of bodyguards bursting into the spring festival because you ran away?” snorted Tsukki.

Tetsu gulped, “Uh, no?”

Tsukki’s eyes diminished to slits. “Good. There better not be.”

Tetsu might not have seen it, but he could feel his feet grounded in the soil beneath them, his arms too stiff to move, and his head angled just right so that Tsukki’s ashen face towered over him.

It was as if he was a marionette on a string, wooden and controlled. His mind was screaming at him to break free of whatever grip the invisible force had on him, but his body refused. It wouldn’t even listen to its owner as it obeyed the shift in gravity or air or whatever. All Tetsu could think of was a string of shit, shit, shit, what the hell is this?

Then it was over.

“Okay,” Tsukki muttered.

The blond retreated and, at the same time, a gust of oxygen flooded the prince’s deprived lungs. Tetsu tried his best to not let the gasp threatening to spill over get out; the blond was already on edge as it is. Tsukki may have been joking around, but Tetsu wasn’t dumb, he knew when he was barely scratching the surface.

In his _life,_ Tetsu has met many complex people. Lady Kozume of the Eastern Islands was one of them, her son trailed just behind her on the list. Then there was his tutor who, despite the many instances Tetsu had planned against him, still adhered to his father and laid patience on him when he least deserved it. His own brother, Tooru who cried himself because he wasn’t a bender when he was younger, accidentally found happiness in the strays he picked up.

Then there’s Tsukki.

Much more complicated than any history or political question he had ever had to answer, more layered than Tooru’s outfits during royal ceremonies. He was as blunt as Tetsu’s sword after a week’s worth of lessons, and colder than the ice Tsukki bends.

He was just… _more_.

And Tetsu wanted exactly that.

He was tired of lessons, exhausted of the supervised ‘play dates’ (which were really treaties in the making between the crown prince and some other nobility.) The crown prince was caged, just as much as his baby brother was, and he hated it. He despised the clockwork studying, the lonely hours spent all by his lonesome because his brother and he no longer had the same bond as when they were younger. Everything just ultimately sucked.

In came Tsukki with his cool, collected façade and endless taunts and remarks, and it was as if Tetsu became more aware, more present, more alive than he’s ever been.

The thought scared him, but it was only a catalyst to something bigger.

Tetsu wants to know more about Tsukishima Kei even if it would be the last thing he’d do.

“Hey, Prince, come look at this.”

Tetsu jerked his eyes away from the winding stone road ahead of him and searched for the soft tufts of blond in his perimeter. Tsukki was bent forward at a red-tented booth. To his right were gold and silver bangles of the like that dangled down to the table in front of him. On the table laid neatly was a stacked collection of overly plush dolls of the badger moles. It was an average display compared to some of the previous ones Tetsu had seen on their walk, but Tsukki gave him the look and his feet manoeuvred automatically.

While the prince gravitated towards the water bender, Tsukki’s head hovered over the display, occasionally nodding at whatever the rambunctious vendor had to say.

“Tetsurou at your service!” the prince chirped as he stepped beside the blond near the display.

Grudgingly, Tsukki tugged on a wooden object and hitched it up to their eye level.

It was a carving of two figures. A young man and woman embraced each other in front of a thumb-like mountain. The carver of the product had not spent much time worrying on the figure’s expressions, and Tetsu could tell that its poor craftsmanship would never sell in the lowliest market of the Fire Nation, but Tetsu can (and will) admit that it is quite an odd piece.

“Um. Cool. Can we get some food now?”

The vendor had moved on from them and occupied himself by bartering with an elderly couple a few feet away from them. Taking advantage of their blessed solitude (however ephemeral it may be,) Tetsu leant closer so much so that their shoulders bumped (and so did their temples.)

It was a friendly thing. He and Yaku bumped heads all the time, but somehow this was different. Tetsu could feel the heat radiating off the ivory skin, can almost feel the thrum of a live heart beneath it, and he inhaled deeply.

Tsukki glared at him, then pointed at the thumb-like structure carved behind the embracing duo.

“That’s Omashu.”

_Omashu?_

Tetsu’s eyes widened. “Wait, like—you mean, this Omashu? This town?”

Tsukki’s nose crinkled. “City, but, yeah. Have you ever heard of the cave of two lovers?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Tetsu muttered, pulling his gaze away from the slight dust of pink on Tsukki’s high cheekbones.

“Well, you know that tunnel you went through?”

The prince nodded, his heavy gaze transfixed on the wooden carving.

“That’s this couple’s tomb.”

Tetsu jerked. “What?”

“Sorry, I’m not the best at storytelling,” the carving on his hand twitched and Tetsu jumped to assure him that all is well. Tsukki glanced at him for a mere second then continued.

“Basically, there was a man and a woman who fell in love, but they were from feuding towns. They loved each other so much that they ignored the risks of what would happen if they were to be seen together, so to make sure that doesn’t happen they learned earth bending from the badger moles and created a labyrinth. They made it very difficult to navigate through so that only they knew the way out…

“Everything was good until the woman heard that the man was killed in the war between their people. Enraged, the woman threw a tantrum by showing that she could destroy both towns using her bending, but, thank God,” Tsukki sighed, “she ended the conflict instead by merging the two towns together. The man was named Oma, and the woman, Shu.”

“Omashu,” the prince whispered, bewildered at the tale.

Tsukki shrugged as his fingers toyed with the small figurine. “Yeah, it’s quite a sappy story, but it was my favourite growing up.”

“Growing up?” Tetsu questioned, curiosity alive and wake at the mention of new information regarding his friend. “I thought you grew up in the Southern Water Tribe.”

Tsukki flushed. “I, uh,” he stuttered, then his shoulders sagged as if in relief, “my father was a merchant. He would sometimes take me on his journeys, but it happened very rarely. He would tell these stories that he heard on the road to me and my brother as bedtime stories.”

“That must have been nice,” a whimsical feeling sat cowardly in his gut.

“Yeah, it was,” said Tsukki softly. Tetsu cocked his head slightly and was stunned at sight.

Tsukki stared longingly at the two figurines on the wooden plate, its base constantly twitching with the play of the blond’s fingers. His brows smoothened into something more calm and relaxing, and the edges of his mouth curved upwards ever so slightly.

If Tetsu had been travelling with his painter, he would have paid him all of his allowance money to sketch the memory on paper.

Still, the feeling stomped at his gut and a groan of discomfort climbed its way up his throat. His mind scattered to find the quickest expedient to save his pride. God knows what would happen should he ever be exposed.

An idea flared and Tetsu grinned.

“Hey, Tsukki. If I ever die in the war, don’t throw a tantrum, okay? Be like Shu and combine our lands together.”

The figurine twitched before many things happen at once. Tsukki plunged toward the display, fingers outstretched and palm right below the aimed trajectory of the object. The vendor screeched he, too, had his hand fishing for the falling object. The table rattled beneath them at the contact it received from Tsukki’s lunged thighs. Then there was the object, which fell completely oblivious to the mayhem around it.

With a soft pat, Tsukki’s pale long fingers encased around the object and hastily placed it back to its original place. The blond whirled and Tetsu nearly (nearly) flinched at the animosity burning in his brown eyes.

But before he was able to scold the prince, Tetsu broke into a fit of laughter. A hunched over, arms over his stomach, eyes watering kind of laughter. It shook him to the core and in the back of his head, a trembling voice wondered how long it has been since he felt this way. Tetsu pushed the thought into silence and ended his laugh with a snort.

When he regained his posture, the vendor had a furious tick on his brow but had left them to attend to another customer. He searched for his companion’s eyes and found that the bitterness had drained away. Tetsu sighed inwardly in relief.

Tsukki’s cheeks tinted red when Tetsu prominently held his gaze. His fingers came together and fidgeted with another. Tsukki shuffled his feet and Tetsu thanked the gods that whatever feeling he had vanished.

Tsukki muttered something under his breath, undoubtedly catching the prince’s attention.   
“What’s that?” he asked, stepping closer to Tsukki’s periphery.

The blond sighed, but even now Tetsu could still make out the heated blood on his cheeks. Almost hesitantly, Tsukki faced him with his lips in a tight line.

“The most I can do is make a tsunami. Not an earth bender, remember?” said Tsukki.

Then he walked away.

Tetsu blinked.

Inhaled.

“Tsukki!” he gushed. Annoyed at the fact that the blond had caught him unguarded, but astonished and overloaded with glee at the comeback.

“Tsukki, I’m not letting you go now that I know you can clap back! Tsukki!”

The blond did not look back. Instead, he carried on down the path and stopped at several tents amicably chatting with the vendors before moving away. Giddily, Tetsu turned to the vendor.

“I’ll take one of these, sir.”

 

 

The small merchandise jiggled with every step he took from its confines within Tetsu’s breast pocket. The crown prince and his companion made their way down the cobbled road and circulated the entire market, but the only purchase Tetsu made was the small wooden figurine of Oma and Shu.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try the fish on the stick?”

Since said purchase, Tsukki became a livelier person. He twitched with movement and shot abrasive jabs at the prince with no hesitation. Granted, Tetsu has yet to see a genuine smile rather than the cocky smirk Tsukki wore all the time, but it was a major improvement from a few hours ago where the blond shunned him.

Beside him, Tsukki’s arms came up crooked above his chest as they lap over another. Long, pale digits thrummed on either side of his triceps, and his eyes away. Tetsu bit the inside of his cheek, fighting off the wide smile crawling up his face.

The sound their steady footfalls on cobblestone anchored him to reality. He shrugged off the palpable twist in his chest and faced the blond.

“I’m good.”

Tsukki nodded but his gaze fixed heavily on the tents ahead.

“Okay, your highness,” murmured Tsukki.

A sharp, hot sting welted his lungs. Somehow, the title sounded sickly when it came from Tsukki’s lips. Your Highness is how people refer to him when they’re not sure how to approach him. People who named him the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation Oikawa Tetsurou used your highness.

But Tsukki did not fit into any of those categories. He knew just how to talk to him, he did not spare him mercy when they jest, and he certainly does not hold back. It was refreshing and absurdly intoxicating. Tetsu’s heartbeat does a little hiccup at the thought of his company’s lion heart.

With a lunge, the prince yanked at the blonde’s wrist, successfully driving them away from the ocean of cheerful citizens.

“That sounds weird,” Tetsu started, hand still firmly settled around Tsukki’s wrist, “you should call me by my name.”

Despite the reddening cheeks, Tsukki did not tug his wrist free. If anything, the blonde’s hand went lax under his palm. The smooth skin below so careless enveloped by his callousness.

Tetsu shied away from Tsukki’s questioning gaze.

“Which is?”

Tetsu’s crooked his head, fingers brushing over his bottom lip lightly. “Ah! Call me Tetsu.”

“Eh?” Tsukki shrieked, “Are you sure?”

Tetsu’s head nodded wildly, a grin masking the waves of sadness that overcame him. “Yeah, not a lot of people call me by my name anymore. It’s… nice.”

A look passed over the water bender's face and, for a second, Tetsu dared to guess the true meaning behind the fleeting warmth but resigned when it was gone as quick as it came. Tsukki nodded curtly.

“Right. Okay. Tetsu… san.”

That… was still too impersonal, but Tetsu shrugged and beamed gratefully, and hoped the blond would get his message. Tsukki smiled the tiniest of smiles before he began walking forward, fingers so easily slotted against Tetsu’s own.

It wasn’t until they reached the courtyard did they meet their first trial (of many.)

A merchant had taken interest on Tetsu’s bland and singed clothes. Although the prince knew that swordplay and Agni Kai marred its hem, he must never allow these citizens to figure it out. The merchant wore a lush green robe, glimmering gold spectacles, and a hollow hat. His mouth thinned in concentration.

“How curious,” the old man said, fingers probing at his shirt. Tetsu tried his hardest to still his unnerved muscles. (It didn’t work.) “I thought the people of Omashu knows that the spring festival is the most formal there is!”

Tetsu gulped. The man stepped closer and inched his nose up, eyes askance.

“Where did you say you came from, boy?”

“Uh…”

Panic beat heavy in the centre of his chest. It burrowed its fist against Tetsu’s rib cage and squeezed his lungs as a grandma would to her grandson’s cheeks. It whined, frantic, and high-pitched inside his head and poked at his already stinging eyes. His heart failed to keep up with the uneasiness. What would happen now? Would they take him in? Surely, they’d let the earth swallow him whole for his father’s actions!

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. He doesn’t want to die yet, he still has a lot of things to do but it would be right for him to die by the hands of his father’s victims but he didn’t do anything wrong! But he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place but he was tired of his teachers, they only heed to his father’s orders! What if they found him now? They would burn this city into ashes, undoubtedly, but he doesn’t want to hurt Tsukki! But—

Tsukki jumped in. “He’s my cousin from the northern tribe.”

Relief blossomed on his shoulder, the patch of skin under Tsukki’s warm palm. Tetsu sagged in his exhale, the metallic dread drained drip by drip the longer Tsukki kept his hand at a place.

“And he is a very respected guest of the house of Yamaguchi.”

A mop of downward black hair bounced into them, nearly blocking his view of the shrivelled merchant. Upon recognising the person in front of him, the man paled.

“Yamaguchi-san, I apologise—”

Yamaguchi.

_Tsukki’s freckled friend._

Yamaguchi rolled his heels and twirled a little in his spot. “It’s okay. Just be careful next time, okay?”

The man bowed deeply, eyes flicked feverishly between Tetsu and Tsukki then to Yamaguchi. He bowed once more before excusing himself in a scurry.

Yamaguchi sighed.

“You two really need to work on your alibis. Northern Tribe, really?” the boy asked, a hand propped on his hip.

Beside him, Tsukki bristled and snatched his hand away. “What? He fits!”

Yamaguchi clicked his tongue and lazily gave Tetsu a once over. “Eh.”

The Prince baulked, but swallowed the defensive comeback and turned to Tsukki instead. The blond’s gaze was fixated on his friend; stern gold eyes shimmered with disgruntlement. The courtyard cleared save for a few young families strolling near the booths. Tetsu cleared his throat and both friends snapped their head to him.

His hand flew to the nape of his neck, forcing his eyes downcast. “Uh, thanks. For the save back there, I mean.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah that—I mean, it was nothing.”

Tetsu’s eyes travelled up to the wondrous shade of pink that dusted Tsukki’s cheeks, its softness complimented greatly by the ivory skin and sandy curls. His glasses askew and his teeth worried the bottom lip; the air in Tetsu’s lungs escaped him in a whoosh.

The silence stretched thin between them, and the air turned crisp.

“You guys are hopeless,” Yamaguchi sighed. “You’re the prince, right? Tsukki told me so much about you.”

Tsukki screeched, but the Yamaguchi paid no mind. He smiled warmly at the prince, and his eyes shone brightly under the morning sun. Tetsu courteously dipped his head in a minuscule bow.

“All good things I hope?”

Yamaguchi smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s all good things.”

“Yama!”

-

They exchange letters after that festival. Yamaguchi offered to be their transit post office to avoid unnecessary attention to their… affair. At first, Tetsu had simply recounted his days wasting away in the confines of his tutoring. Tetsu received his first letter at the age of fifteen.

In reply, Tsukki scribbled snide remarks about expensive education and his being a brat.

The scrolls were delivered like clockwork. Tetsu took the first initiative to start their conversation. It was two short scrolls. One addressed to Tsukki, and one to Yamaguchi that told of his address. He wrote them on the first Monday of Spring and got two replies three days later. After that, he wrote to Tsukki (and occasionally Yamaguchi of his service) the moment he received the blond’s scrolls.

Until Yaku caught Tsukki’s reply an hour before Tetsu would make his daily check in at the foreign affairs division and cornered him in his chambers.

“What’s this? Why are you receiving letters from Omashu? From the Yamaguchi house no less!”

Tetsu scrambled to assuage his advisor’s nearly frantic outburst and opened his cabinet. Tens of scrolls rolled and clattered onto the floor.

“It’s nothing bad! It—Yaku, please. Please tell me you didn’t read them.”

“Why?” Yaku snapped, his feet kicked at one of the scrolls. It rolled passed him, but Tetsu lunged forwards.

“Yaku, you are my best best friend in the whole world, but if you read those letters I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

“What the hell? Are you poisoned?”

“No! Yaku, please. I only ask of you of this one favour. Tell me the truth: did you or did you not read the letters addressed to me?”

Yaku’s mouth twisted into a tight line. He scoffed. “Of course I didn’t.”

“Oh, thank God,” Tetsu slumped onto his bed in relief.

“But you better tell me what the hell is going on right now or god helps me I will report you myself.”

Alarmed, he began to explain. The doors were shut tight, he listened for footsteps and potential eavesdroppers, and then spoke in hushed whispers.

Yaku hadn’t been pleased. He threw the prince a disapproving look and scowled.

“As long as you make sure this stays hidden, then I won’t stop you.”

Seasons passed. Months turned to years, and every week (without fail) Tsukki had always managed to give him reply.

It was the third week of July that found Tetsu restless. He paced up and down his chamber relentlessly, only stopping when a maid came to fetch him for his meals. His tutor clicked his tongue and packed his bags and left him alone after the first lesson back. Back then his mind entertained the memories he acquired in his and Tsukki’s last day out.

After Tsukki’s friend came and saved his ass, he took the responsibility as the mayor’s son of Omashu to show him around. When the sun dropped low enough for the shadows to creep up against his ankles, and Tsukki left their side to care his bladder, the prince gave him a sharp look.

“I hope your intentions towards him are anything but ignoble,” he said then. His voice clipped and gaze hot.

Tetsu gulped but stood his ground. “I assure you, they are.”

With one last squint of the eye, the mayor’s son whirled and shrieked, “Tsukki! Welcome back!”

Only when the blond stepped past vendors’ candlelight did he notice him. Tetsu managed to swallow his awe at how the earth bender was quick to sense his friend. Tsukki ambled towards them, hands swaying just the tiniest bit by his side.

“What were you two talking about?” Tsukki asked noncommittally, head nodding at the two of them. Yamaguchi was quick to avert his attention.

“Tsukki, let’s get food!”

“But… we’ve been eating the whole day.”

“More food!”

When the sun dipped enough to be just below the treeline, Yamaguchi and the pair parted ways in the town square. Tetsu had just been ready to share his farewells to the blond when he insisted on coming along and walking him to the mountain path's entrance. Tetsu tried, he did, to get him to stay because the walk to it is long and winded between the woods to which Tsukki gave him the dullest glare and said, “I’ve been in and out of Omashu since I was a fetus. Let’s go.”

So the pair ventured into the tall, shady forest. Tetsu came to Omashu during the morning where the trees were greenly lit and the roots didn’t catch on to his feet.

“This sucks,” Tetsu groaned at the fifth time his foot got caught in a dwindled root. Tsukki merely laughed.

Tetsu glared at him. “How come you’re not tripping? Does the forest hate me? Is that it?”

“What are you talking about, Tetsu-san?” Tsukki giggled, the heel of hand pressed against his curled mouth. Tetsu’s heart jumped in giddy excitement.

Tsukki sighed and tilted his head up to the moon above them. Bathed in the soft white light, Tsukki’s hair was golden. His ivory skin glowed and his eyelashes were curtains against his high cheeks. Tetsu gulped. Surely, this would end the moment they stepped out of moonlight? But nope.

Under the dark canopy of trees, Tsukki’s eyes gleamed sharply. His lips pink and his hair tips silver, Tetsu was at loss.

“Tetsu-san,” Tsukki hummed, still ethereal as ever despite being blanketed by the shadows. “How come you’re the crown prince of the Fire Nation but you’re hardly in the palace?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… There’s hardly any news of the crown prince and you’re just outside all the time.”

“Well, not all the time,” Tetsu quipped, Cheshire cat grin elastic on his face.

“Most of the time, then. It’s just…”

Just, just, just. Tetsu’s heart beat in anticipation. What was Tsukki trying to say? Was there even anything to say?

They’re just friends, Tetsu knew this. _Just_.

But when Tsukki’s hand accidentally grazed the back of his own, he lingered there for a moment, just (just) enough to feel Tsukki’s slim digits against his. The way his heart blipped at that one small contact as anything but just.

It was dizzying, exhilarating, and Tetsu was breathless. He silently heaved in a breath to calm himself but that only left his brain throb even more deprived of the free oxygen it desired.

So, when Tsukki hung his head forwards and slipped his fingers into the pouches on his loose pants, Tetsu stilled his breathing and listened intently to whatever Tsukki was about to say.

“It’s hard to imagine someone so kind belonging to a house so…”

“Evil?” Tetsu asked. Tsukki jumped and when he faced the crown prince, his brows sagged with worry.

“No—wait, not like that. I mean… the Fire Nation is known to be…forceful, but you’re anything but. For the longest time, I thought that there was nothing to it but the joy of inflicting pain on the world. That there wasn’t humanity left for the Fire Nation.”

Then, Tsukki’s hands flew up, “No offence,” he said.

“None taken,” Tetsu said, hands bunched the inseam of his pants.

“So, when you’re all nice, and kind—”

“Wow, Tsukki, I’m touched.”

“Shut up, I wasn’t finished,” Tsukki said, “I was scared. For days and weeks, after we first met, I kept thinking that you would hunt me down and just… destroy my town.”

“What?” Tetsu jumped in his place. He remembered, then, what people must think when they saw a ship emblazoned with the Fire Nation’s emblem approach their town. He shivered, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… fine. I mean it’s not fine. It’s way so not fine. I lost my father to those raiders, my uncles, my teacher, too all in the same night. So, when your ship came and I was right there I thought: this is it. This is how I’m going to die. Then: Oh god, I really don’t want to die.”

“Tsukki,” Tetsu called out, but the blonde kept stepping forward and Tetsu failed to keep up with the rigid invisible roots and the slimy vines.

“I’m just really confused! Why are you out in the first place? Aren’t you supposed to fill in your duties as a crown prince elsewhere? Why are you showing up where I go? Why—”

It wasn’t a sob. It wasn’t a growl. It was a frustrated, anguished, pained cry that twisted Tetsu’s, heart. His arms limp by his side, he willed them to stand, to take action, to comfort, but even his tongue grew numb in his mouth.

“Sorry,” Tsukki stated with finality. “That wasn’t—you didn’t deserve to see that.”

Then who does? Tetsu wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue.

This is what the Fire Lord doesn’t see. This is what the soldiers refused to understand. This is why Tetsu ran away.

“You know, I actually don’t know why the war started or why it’s still going on,” Tetsu started, voice gentle as he came to a halt next to Tsukki. Tsukki, whose shoulders still flinched with exhale; turned to him, mouth sagged.

“It’s been, what, fifty years since the start? It’s nonsensical, that’s what it is. All I remember is being born, raised, and told what to do. It wasn’t… inherently violent. I learned geography, history, mannerisms of the nobility, and I’ve never, not once, been told to take the land.

“But it’s a silent rule, I think. They don’t teach it because my tutors know that this… whatever is going on is the worst fate for the Fire Nation. Or they don’t say anything because they think my father’s bloodlust is hereditary or something.”

“Or something,” Tsukki mumbled. He rested against an old tree’s body, head hung low and fingers fidgeted against the wet bark. Tetsu cleared his throat, so unsure.

“You asked me why I’m outside all the time, right? Yeah, well, it’s because of that. I’m—I don’t want to be known for what my father is. I hate the Fire Nation politics. I hate that I was born solely to rule an angry nation. I hate how scared people act around me. I hate that they don’t call me by my name anymore. I hate all of it!”

“So end it,” Tsukki snapped, eyes snapped to his own.

“How? Tsukki, tell me how and I’ll do it.”

“Rebelling against your father passive aggressively isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I know,” said Tetsu, “but it isn’t like I can just start a revolution suddenly! I hate my life, but that doesn’t mean I want to kill myself.”

“Fine. We’ll work on it together.”

“And I—wait, what?”

“You asked me how right? I’ll tell you how, or we’ll find a plan somehow. We’ll do it. You can’t do it alone and neither can I, but together?”

Tsukki’s eyes sparkled in the dark. “We’re invincible.”

Tetsu let out something of a half sigh and a half laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Tsukki grinned, whatever tension he was cursed in evaporated like air.

“Okay.”

That night, Tsukki grinned at him as he stepped into the cave with a palm of fire. Tetsu smiled back, his shoulders still warm from the blonde’s excited embrace. 


	10. Tetsurou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's time for you to look inward and start asking the big question: who are you and what do you want? - uncle iroh

Tetsu tried to recall the last letter he sent. Had he wrote something offensive? Is that why Tsukki didn’t reply? Tetsu scrambled to the floor of his chambers and pawed under his bed to find the scrolls he prepared for Omashu. He clambered onto his desk and wrote with fervour.

 

_To: Yamaguchi Tadashi, Omashu_

_Hello, Yamaguchi._

_I hope this letter finds you in the best health. How is Omashu? Are you finally succumbing to your mayoral duties?_

_Have you received news from Tsukki? It’s been four days since I sent my last letter and I have yet to receive a reply. Of course, I know that Tsukki leads a busy life with his being a shop owner, but I can’t help but worry._

_Please reply soon._

_Tetsu_

 

By dinner the letter was delivered to the post office and sent out by his trustworthy farmhand Inuoka. His father, ever prominent, sat on the head of the table while his brother sat across himself. The dinner itself was noodles in a rich broth (father’s favourite) and fried vegetables as side dishes. Tooru ate quietly and refused to hold eye contact with the other two on the table. Tetsu didn’t linger on him and went straight to his father.

 

“Father, are there news from the colonials?”

 

Tetsu knew this topic was a high reach, but it didn’t stop him from asking away. He needed to know, god dammit if only to assuage the erratic beat of his heart.

 

His father chewed on a noodle and settled his chopsticks neatly on top of his bowl. “Not anything we should worry of, why?”

 

Tetsu fidgeted and stopped his hand from anxiously rubbing the nape of his neck. That was his tell and everyone within the castle knew. “Nothing. My tutor and I were reviewing the Colonials today and I thought a customary check-up is in order.”

 

A loud, sharp laugh and Tetsu forced himself to not wince.

 

“Don’t fret, child,” his father said, “my highest ranking commander is on his way to check on it now. Who knows, maybe he will conquer the Southern Water Tribe after all.”

 

Tetsu’s chopsticks stilled in his hand and he flinched as if someone had poured ice water down his back. “I beg your pardon, but did you just say Southern Water Tribe?”

 

“Yes. Naoi Manabu, you remember him, yes? He used to teach you fire bending when you were younger. Anyway, he wants to raise his rank and asked permission to raid the Southern Water Tribe and I thought, why not? They’re much easier than the Northern tribe.”

 

Breathe. Breathe? Breathe.

 

Shaking— still shaking— Tetsu ground his fists against the hard edge of his chair. He pushed his knuckles deep into the sturdy leg of the rich mahogany chair and inhales.

 

“Why didn’t you invite me, father?” Tetsu smiles (grimaces, more like) at the jolly man on the head of the table. “I would’ve liked to go.”

 

His father laughs, “Of course you would, my boy, but you were busy with your studies. Your tutor has really started to give me the stink eye due to your performance!”

Tetsu seethed in his seat and fixed his gaze down. He has to go. He has to see.

 

“Father, will you let me visit Naoi-san? I want to get the hands-on experience of a true conquerer,” he says with a beaming smile (that didn’t quiet reach his eyes.)

 

His father’s mouth tightens before he waves at him dismissively. “Why not? Just make sure you finish your assignments before you leave.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Across him, Tooru frowned and Tetsu tried his best to ignore him throughout the rest of the meal.

 

-

 

 

Tetsu’s tutor gives him the pass to go two days after he learned of Naoi’s plans. He hastily stuffed his training pants and ratty undershirts into a sack and dumped his crown on his bed.

 

He rushed out of his chambers but faltered.

 

He rushed back in and jammed his crown into the deepest corner of the sack and made his way to the carriage.

 

_He needs to see._

 

-

 

The Southern Water Tribe was chaos.

 

Battleships blocked the gates to the city and Raiders littered across the ice. People screamed, babies cried, and the air was a mix of snow and smoke. The sun reigned high, but their darkness enveloped the Southern Water Tribe.

 

Tetsu scrambled off the boat and sneaked into the city in bland clothes through the gate he first met him. Though his knowledge in the city was adequate at best, Tetsu knew where the centre was. His calves ached as the wind blew past, hundreds of denizens bumped into him but he kept his pace. His eyes scavenge through the blur of the scenery, but once he reached the centre he need not look more.

 

In the vast scope of the icy square stood ten Fire Nation soldiers. A flash of blue and blond had Tetsu’s steps falter.

 

Right there, like pigs in the middle crouched three water tribe members. With their chins glued to their chest, their shoulders slouched, and an aura of defeat dumped heavily on their crooked spines. Naoi towered over the three, his ungloved hand over their heads as he threatened to spill fire over them.

 

Tetsu inched closer, willing his boots to be quiet as he crawls behind another igloo. Now, the ring of fire soldiers was close enough to blaze, but Tetsu refrained. He needed to know.

 

“The day has come!” Naoi’s voice bellowed, “I’ll earn my rightful title as a conqueror and new slaves!”

 

The ring of soldiers cheered, arms raised and voice muffled by their masks. Tetsu sneered, what title?

 

Naoi sluggishly moved behind the middleman and hooked his gloved fingers on his collar. With a yelp, the man’s head was forced upwards.

 

“What do you have to say for yourself, chief?” Naoi sneered, mouth weirdly close to the man’s ear. “Unable to protect your city, much less your own family!”

 

The man struggled against his lock but failed to relieve himself. His dark blond hair ruffled in the wind, Tetsu tensed.

 

The chief remained silent, and Naoi scoffed before he kicked the man down. The woman beside him jolted, but the glare Naoi sent pinned her down.

 

“Fine,” he huffed, “let’s ask the real man of the family.”

 

He repeated his actions to the lone male on the far left; the blond hair was so similar that Tetsu’s heartstrings stretched far beyond his belief.

 

_Please, don’t be him. Please don’t be him. Pleasedontbehim._

 

Naoi forced his neck up and from this far away, Tetsu slumped in relief. The man, although too similar for Tetsu’s liking, had too broad shoulders, chiselled jaw, and steeliness to his posture that Tetsu knew Tsukki has yet to possess.

 

Tetsu blinked and felt the snow chilling his bare skin as a weight forced him down.

 

Above him, Tsukki glowered. He hooked his fingers to Tetsu’s wrist and dragged him away from the square and into a faraway igloo. Once he dumped the prince, Tooru shut the door noiselessly before he whirled and pinned Tetsu to the wall.

 

“You!”

 

Tetsu gulped. The igloo had only one low window and a navy curtain, too, sealed that.

 

“You! How…”

 

Only when Tsukki stepped forward did Tetsu realise the gravity of the situation. A sliver of silver light licked Tsukki’s face, a harsh slant of white that cracked Tsukki’s mask of dark open.

 

His lips quivered in the soft daylight, his eyes red with dark rings of tiredness, and his eyes were cold, rigid—dead.

 

Tetsu choked.

 

He raised an arm and hesitantly tried to touch the blonde’s shaking shoulder, but a cold palm slapped him away.

 

“Tsukki?” Tetsu whispered, begged, pleaded.

 

Tsukki was an earthquake, every fibre of his being trembled. It was an onslaught of emotions that attacked him as he heard the first sound to come out of Tsukki’s mouth.

 

“You said.”

 

“What did I say?” Tetsu asked, hands clenched by his sides. There was an itch to his fingers and it seems like Tsukki’s skin is the only balm to assuage the need, but he held himself together.

 

Tetsu only had a moment to decipher the situation when a fist flew against his jaw. He couldn’t recoil fast enough as the sucker punch sent him flying against the ice wall. The fire raged within him, awaking at the pain in his lower back and the bruise that would no doubt form in the coming weeks, but he willed it to calm down.

 

“Tsukki—”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tsukki hissed, “just shut up.”

 

Tsukki punctuated each following ‘shut up’ with a blast of ice. His fingers grew warm, his body defensive, but his mind watered the call of the fire away. He slumps and lets Tsukki capture him.

 

A ring of rice held both of his wrists up, and two separate rings kept his feet apart. Tetsu muffled a groan when a blast of ice pinned his neck to the ice wall behind him. He stayed—still as the haphazard furniture around them.

 

Tsukki panted, heaved, and slumped his head. His hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically, matching the fast pace throb of Tetsu’s panicked heart. As the seconds pass he could feel the wall of fire begin to erupt from between his chest, he shut his eyes.

 

“Tsukki, please,” he choked out, beads of sweat dripped from his temple to his jaw. “Please.”

 

Tsukki retreated into the dark so much so that the only thing of him visible was his outline. Tetsu struggled to keep his eyes open, with the fire threatening to swallow him whole.

 

All his years of training never prepared him for this. He was taught to fight back, to make his enemy hurt, but how could he when his enemy is the person he wanted to protect?

 

Five heartbeats passed. Tetsu’s skin grew exponentially warm.

Breathing normally was a struggle. Each inhales he took was dangerously close to the fire, and each exhales puffed out smoke. Tsukki remained still in his spot.

 

“Why didn’t you answer my letter?” Tetsu gritted his teeth, “I waited.” For you.

 

An eerie silence trudged into the room. Off in the distance, Tetsu could still make out the boisterous echo of Naoi’s voice.

 

“You said you’d end it.”

 

The ice chokehold Tsukki held him in slowly melted as the skin beneath it sizzled. If Tsukki didn’t release him soon, the entire igloo will melt.

 

“What?” Tetsu asked the figure dissolved in the shadows.

 

“Tsukki, what are you talking about?” he croaked.

 

A shuddery breath then came the reply. “Last time… you said it last time. You said you’d end it.”

 

“End what?”

 

“This!” he screamed, taking a step forward. The angry slant of light was even harsher now as it lightened the blonde’s tear tracks. “This—everything about this! The raids, the—people are losing their houses! Their families are in danger! Those are my parents and brother out there!”

 

His stomach coiled. “Tsukki,” he said steadily, careful of the pacing blonde in front of him, “you can’t actually believe that I’d be able to stop this war.”

 

“You’re the crown prince!” he snarled, all teeth—all angry. “Your word is the law!”

 

There was an onslaught of emotion that attacked him then, the dizzying swirl of sadness, the choking grasp of anger, the deep insatiable sting of heartache, and the worst—rejection.

 

Tsukki was different. _(Wasn’t he?)_

 

There’s no way he just used his title against him, right? _(Was there?)_

 

Tsukki was supposed to be a friend. _(Wasn’t he?)_

 

_(Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?)_

 

The madness that swirled within pounded on his lungs, but Tetsu is nothing if not proud. He never let his enemies _(Was he?)_ see his weaknesses. So, Tetsu’s wrists commanded the fire and it engulfed his hands. His imprisonment melted as he stalked forwards to the figure with the unhinged jaw.

 

_(Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?)_

 

He raised a fist _(Why?)_ and just the fire could blast past him, his wrist was encaptured in a block of ice. Beneath him, a square of Arctic sea appeared and the waves splashed up and down onto the nice rug carpet below the armchair next to him. Tsukki’s ankles steadied and with a swift jerky movement, he sent two pulses of water at the crown prince.

 

Tetsu recoiled, summoning his own breath of fire and turned water into mist. He advanced forwards; his fist moved back then shot at the darkened figure. Tsukki hissed as his clothes singed, with a flick of his wrist multiple icicles pinned his pants to the ground.

 

Tetsu growled and burned the ice needles, sending yet another fireball at the retreating figure.

 

_(Why? Why? Why?)_

 

Tsukki blocked his shot with an army of snow, which barrelled past his fire and onto him. Tetsu wheezed. He hadn’t brought his jacket and the ice scorched his bare arms. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and inhaled deeply.

 

It wasn’t an explosion or a strike of lightning.

 

It was faster.

 

Tetsu wheezed before he knew what was going on. He felt the blood drip (drip, drip) sluggishly down his temple to his chin. When Tetsu’s breathing evened, he darted his eyes to scan the room. Tsukki, stagnant, stood still in the sliver of light with trembling hands.

 

His eyes moved further, the room—wrecked as it may, did not stink of hostility. It froze.

 

Next to him, an inch away from his left eye was a sharp, frozen, dagger. Tetsu stilled, and then took a step to the right and winced as he felt the remnants of the icicle leave his outer earlobe. He stepped back, examining the neat bloody splatter on the aqueous wall.

 

His ear stung, as did his temple, but he remained silent.

 

Then Tsukki hunched over and grasped his knee. “Oh God.”

 

The blonde shivered (from the cold?) and he fell on one knee, still clasping the other with his free hand. Tetsu staggered towards him, careful, cautious.

 

“Oh, fuck,” the blonde wheezed and brought his head up.

 

Tetsu inhaled sharply.

 

Tsukki’s face contorted in pain, fear, and everything bad. His mouth quivered, not with sadness, but with disbelief. His eyes distant and only came to focus as it moved to his knee.

 

Under the sliver of light, Tetsu choked.

 

Tsukki’s clothed knee was charred. The blue pants protecting sang and burned open, as did the skin beneath it, Tsukki’s ivory skin, now angry and red and bleeding and bubbling. Tsukki bit his cry of pain, and only then did Tetsu knew why.

 

They were far too close to Naoi’s ring of soldiers.

 

Tears streamed down heavily as Tsukki screamed into the shirt between his teeth. Tetsu scrambled.

 

“Oh, fuck,” he echoed, head dizzy.

 

He stumbled into the blonde, accidentally jolting him, and he eyed the room warily for a cure, anything to stop Tsukki’s whimpers.

 

Slowly, cautiously, the crown prince hoisted Tsukki into a bridal carry and dipped his knee into frozen lake. Tsukki let out a yelp of surprise but immediately muffled it by biting into the dip of Tetsu’s neck. The crown prince let out a choked groan, but never let go of the blonde.

 

Gently, he placed him on the ice, and when he was steady enough, Tetsu crawled to his sack and pulled out a shirt. He gripped it at both sides and ripped the material in two before heaved Tsukki’s injured leg onto his lap (Tsukki winced but remained silent, tears streamed steadily down) and began to tie the cloth behind his knee.

 

“Wait,” Tsukki called out weakly.

 

With a limp hand, Tsukki summoned a ball of luminous liquid from the square pool. Tetsu shivered as the aura of the spirits nearly suffocate him, still his grip of Tsukki’s leg didn’t budge. Tsukki’s hand wavered above his knee, but slowly, the glowing orb circled the injury.

 

It took minutes, or hours, or aeons, but Tsukki’s blood stopped leaking and the charred skin patched itself back together. When Tsukki deemed it satisfactory, he dropped the orb unceremoniously back into the ocean. The skin of his joint was still red and sickly, but Tsukki waved a nonchalant hand at him and the crown prince wrapped the torn cloth around the knee before placing another one for security. Tsukki promptly shifted forwards and dumped his head onto the crown prince’s shoulder.

 

They stay like that, Naoi’s voice booming obnoxiously behind them, Tsukki’s listless head against his shoulder and Tetsu’s nose to his temple. When Tsukki pulled back from the embrace, his eyes dripped with concern.

 

“You’re bleeding,” he said, a trembling hand hesitated above the wound.

 

“It’s nothing,” Tetsu grumbled, eyes fixated on the discontentment in the blonde’s face. “You’re burned.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Tsukki sniped, and then he raised another ball of water (smaller, but glimmered brighter) and brought it to Tetsu’s temple. He felt the wetness of the ocean, but not once did water drip down onto his shoulder.

 

Slowly, but surely, the throb in his temple dissolved, and he felt the skin grow tight together. Tsukki dumped his water aid and huffed. “It’s gonna scar.”

 

“It’s fine,” Tetsu murmured into his shoulder. Tsukki’s shoulders shook, then a wet palm combed through his hair.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“What for?”

 

“For—you know what for. For hurting you,” Tsukki huffed, fingers still running through his hair. Tetsu hummed.

 

“I hurt you too.”

 

“It’s not your fault.”

 

Tetsu’s hand flew out onto the injured knee and Tsukki swallowed a gasp of pain. He looked into the hazy brown eyes, tired, “What’s this then? I made this. I did this. It was my fault.”

 

Tsukki slapped his hand away and furrowed his eyebrows, “I know that. I’m talking about the Raiders.”

 

“I’m sorry about attacking you,” Tetsu admitted quietly into the darkness. Tsukki’s Adam's apple bobbed.

 

“I was being an asshole.”

 

“Yeah, you kinda were.”

 

“Hey!” Tsukki grinned, “You’re supposed to say it wasn’t my fault.”

 

Tetsu hummed, then shook his head. “No, it was your fault. It was my fault, too. But this war—this madness, chaos, and destruction were not our fault. We were born into this, we didn’t choose this fight, but we have, too.

 

“But,” Tetsu titled his head, “I didn’t know about this raid until a night ago. My father hadn’t informed of anything. Naoi, the guy who captured your family, he’s all behind this.”

 

Tsukki scowled at the mention of Tetsu’s former mentor. “I want my family back.”

 

“I know,” Tetsu rubbed a hand on the blonde’s frosty arm. “You will. Just let me think of something first next time, okay?”

 

“Okay. Did you really not know?”

 

Tetsu shook his head. “No idea. My father accidentally blurted about it during dinner and I chased him for permission since. I wanted to go the second I found out but my tutor… didn’t let me.”

 

“Don’t tell me. Did you get a bad grade?”

 

“I… may have forgotten to submit the past three assignments.”

 

“Tetsu-san,” Tsukki whined.

 

_Tetsu-san._

 

Tetsu flushed, “What? I was… preoccupied. You didn’t answer my letter!”

 

Tsukki’s cheeks reddened, “So you missed three due dates because I didn’t reply?”

 

“I was worried, okay? Cut me some slack!”

 

The two of them grinned.

 

Tsukki cleared his throat and eyed the door. “News about the Raiders came a week ago. I got your letter the night the first raid ships were detected. I never got the chance to read it, sorry.”

 

Tetsu eyed the boy in front of him.

 

Tsukki was a year or so younger than him, but now he looked even more juvenile. The tiny source of light shone on him and captured Tsukki’s entire being perfect. His shoulders hunched forwards, chin tucked into his chest, and a quiet mumble in his lips as his eyes fixate on the mess of fingers in his lap.

 

With a strangled cry, Tetsu snaked a hand around the boy’s neck and pulled their foreheads together. Tsukki choked on an inhale but leant into the touch.

 

“I’ll get your family back. I promise,” he said, looking straight into deep brown eyes. Tsukki gulped and sent him a wet smile.

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Tetsu-san.”

 

“Believe me, Tsukki. Just this once.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay?” he whispered.

 

Tsukki nodded against him. “Okay.”

 

-

 

“General Naoi-san, what a surprise to see you here!”

 

Tetsu strutted into the ring of soldiers and gasps resonated all around him. Immediately, the soldiers fell to their knees and bowed.

 

Before Tetsu left the castle, he made sure to pack his crown and reds. His cape, dress shirts… the whole nine yards on display with a fitting smug smile gracing his lips.

 

“Crown – Tetsu-sama,” Naoi stuttered, temporarily frozen in spot. “What are you doing here?”

 

“What are you doing here?” he jested, arms steady and concrete on his hips. He circled the ring of soldiers, each of them muttering his name as he passed. Once he’s completed a cycle, Tetsu’s boots crunched the blanket of snow beneath him in the circle’s radius. “Hm? Father never told me of such a big raid.”

 

“Your father doesn’t have to tell you everything,” Naoi said, a scowl on his thin mouth.

 

“Maybe not,” he drawled, “but as the future leader of this nation, I am allowed to override any and every operation under my father’s permission.”

 

“No,” Naoi’s whisper.

 

Tetsu shared him his signature Cheshire grin. “Oh, yes.”

 

“Men,” he called out to the soldiers with a flippant wave, “please disembark the captives and board on your ships. There is a far more urgent matter we need to take care of.”

 

“You have no right!” Naoi screamed a fist shook at his direction. “You are nothing!”

 

“Remember who you’re talking to, cadet,” Tetsu hissed as he stepped closer to Naoi. “Unhand these citizens and leave. It is not your place to conquer such a big tribe.”

 

“You are below me—”

 

“What did you say?” Tetsu whispered a hand flew out to capture Naoi’s jaw. Like this, the Prince towered over the general. Tetsu never was a short child.

 

His eyes burned into Naoi’s rebellious ones before the general shoved him off. “I do not accept this.”

 

“It is not your position to decline a royal directive, general.”

 

“I won’t settle for this!”

 

“Perhaps a traditional Agni Kai right in front of your men will suffice, mentor?” Tetsu chirped chillingly. “Let’s see if I have succeeded you.”

 

“Quit dreaming, child,” Naoi growled just as he sent his first swirl of fire. “You’ll never amount to anything.”

 

Tetsu growled and misdirected the fire to his side, a lump of snow hissed as it melted. With a leap, he stuck a leg out and shot a string of fire against his opponent. Naoi sidestepped his attack and punched him two fireballs, which Tetsu dismissed with a wave of his hand and shot his own identical two.

 

The sky thundered above them, and the clouds began to draw closer and greyer. Tetsu grinned.

 

Naoi huffed, but did not relent, and used his fists into a flamethrower. Tetsu jumped out of the way and ran a few paces, chased by the unrelenting breath of fire before he stuck two fingers towards the sky and called the energy within him.

 

In a heartbeat, blew strings of energy connected him to the sky and he whipped it down onto Naoi. The general dropped his fist, ending the fire tantrum easily, as he dropped to the ground. Naoi’s men stood in silence, as they watched in awe of the events that had just unravelled.

 

Once he deemed Naoi was unable to move, he threw him towards one of his men who obediently picked him up and slumped him over his shoulder.

 

He turned to the rest and raised his voice, “Return the members of the Southern Water Tribe and then embark your ships. Do not return unless under the order of the High Lord.”

 

The soldiers bowed and trickled away from the square and into the main street of the city. From here, Tetsu’s eyes easily detected the vast wall of black red-flagged barrages and sighed.

 

He made his way to the three masked captives and burned their ropes. The three immediately broke free and stood. The woman, frantic, thanked him.

 

The other two sneered and kept their distance. The older of the two (Tsukki’s father, he thought,) held his chin up and scowled, “Go back to where you came from, boy.”

 

Tetsu smothered his whimpering pride and beamed at the man instead, “Are you… Tsukishima-san?”

 

“Yes. Why?”

 

“Oh! Okay, can you please wait here a bit?”

 

“What are you doing? Young man!”

 

Tetsu scurried quickly, his boots barely hitting the ground as he flew over the snowy plane to reach that one familiar squat ice stature. Before he even made it out, a flash of blond came hurdling towards him and knocked him off his feet in a breath.

 

Tsukki, above him, panted, eyes wide. He took off from his crouching position and threw himself into the arms of his family. The three water tribe members embraced in the midst of the snow and Tetsu huffs a breath, a smile slipping on his face before he could stop it.

 

“What are you doing? Join us,” the woman calls to him. Tetsu smiles then, polite and sincere before he shakes his head.

 

“Ah—it’s okay, really,” he says, soft as it echoes through the square. Tsukki lifts his head from where it was buried between his family and marched to him. “Ah, Tsukki—seriously, I’m—”

 

“I don’t have the money right now,” Tsukki starts when he’s only a few feet apart, “I don’t have gold, or rich goods, or food even.”

 

“Um, I never asked…”

 

“This is the only way I can think of to repay you.”

 

Tetsu snapped his eyes to meet the smouldering golden gaze. Tsukki’s brows were stitched together, mouth loose but down turned into a sloppy frown, and there was something in the faint lines that carved next to his nose that made Tetsu just… _go_.

 

So when Tsukki offers him a palm, he takes it. He lets himself get dragged to the warm embrace between a relieved mother, a gleeful father, and a grateful friend.

 

When the sunset and black snow no longer fell down from the sky, Tetsu and Tsukki were tasked to lead back and find the Southern Water Tribe members. They lead them back to their houses, comforting them, and helping them the best they could while Tsukki’s family assembled a team to prepare a village-wide dinner.

 

“Thank you,” whimpered a mother as she clutched her scorned sleeping daughter, “Thank you for not letting them take her…”

 

Tetsu’s heart ached. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and squeezed the woman’s shoulder one last time before saying, “You’re welcome.”

 

The prince trudges out of the igloo with a heavy heart, but when cold pale fingertips grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, Tetsu could only follow.

 

Without lifting his gaze, he knew who captured him.

 

“Is it always this bad?” he asks, voice small and shrewd.

 

“No,” Tsukki mumbles above him, “not always. Sometimes it's worse.”

 

“Oh,” Tetsu choked out, eyes stinging, “oh _god_.”

 

There was a cold pressure pressed against his back and he was forced to look up. Tsukki glowered, but as he met his eyes, his glare softened. “What’s wrong?”

 

Tetsu dusts himself off and shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just… never imagined it to be like this.”

 

“Right. I’m sorry.”

 

The prince reels back, mouth wide with shock, “What do you have to be sorry for? If anything I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness!”

 

Tsukki’s eyes rockets upwards hazily, “You’re right. On your knees then.”

 

There was no malice to his words, but Tetsu feels the hairs on the nape of his neck stand alert and his heart jolting in his chest until Tsukki cocks an eyebrow at him questioningly.

 

“I’m joking,” he says, his sigh coming out as white smoke. Tetsu’s frigid body remain frozen for a moment before Tsukki’s warm hand encircling his wrist thawed him alive.

 

“Of course, you were,” he huffs, hand reaching up to cover his neck, feet shuffling. “Of course.”

 

Tsukki clicks his tongue at him, his fair head glimmering under the moonlight. “Stop being weird and get up, you’re on dishes duty.”

 

“Ah—Tsukki, I don’t think I’ll be joining dinner.”

 

Tsukki jerks away from him momentarily, “What?”

 

Sheepishly, Tetsu averts his gaze and pulls his mouth into a shaky smile, “I don’t think… after today—I can’t…” he groans, fingers grasping his unruly bedhead in frustration, “I…”

 

“You’re not ready because of the overwhelming guilt that’s eating you alive.”

 

“That—yes, that.”

 

Tsukki’s golden gaze pierces through his soul and Tetsu can still hear the families rejoicing in the distance, but he and Tsukki are frozen in time.

 

The water bender pivots, once, and calls from his shoulder, “I’ll see you whenever then.”

 

“Wait for—Tsukki!” Tetsu wailed, scrambling up to his feet, “I don’t even know where’s where! Tsukki, you are doing a terrible job at being my tour—oh.”

 

By the time Tetsu forcefully turned him around, Tsukki had two identical streams dripping down his face. His mouth, pulled in by his teeth, snarling and eyebrows angry. His cheeks puffy and fingers curled into fists, Tsukki breathes in haggardly. “Just go.”

 

“Tsukki…”

 

“Go! You want to go so bad then do it. I don’t care! Just leave me alone!” Tsukki hissed, and his right arm flew upward towards him. Tetsu jolts back as a surge of water erects from the ground and the ice wobbles beneath him.

 

“Tsukki, please, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

 

The blonde’s arm drops lifelessly by his side as he continues walking with his back to the Fire Prince. Tetsu huffs, then jogs up to his friend, “Tsukki…”

 

“I get it, alright? You feel uncomfortable because you can’t face it. So—just leave.”

 

Tsukki’s shoulders shook violently and Tetsu lurched out of his frozen stance to wrap an arm around his slim back, his right hand immediately latching onto the back of his neck, pulling closer, closer.

 

“Oh, Tsukki.”

 

“Just go,” the blond mumbled into the red lapel. Tetsu huffed a breath into the night and it comes out as a cloud of white smoke.

 

“I need to go.”

 

“I know, just leave.”

 

“I’m not leaving with you mad at me. I won’t have it.”

 

Tsukki whirled out of his grasp then, facing him with swollen eyes and tears cascading down his flushed cheeks. “What will you have then? What do you want with me, huh? What, Your Highness?”

 

Tetsu flinched, arms up in a defensive stance at the name and he lowers them with hesitance. “I don’t get – talk to me, please, Tsukki.”

 

“You can’t,” Tsukki’s shoulders sag. He’s tired, his brain supplies. “You can’t just storm in whenever you want into my life, alright? I have other things to worry about, not just your sorry ass.”

 

Tetsu’s brows meet in confusion, “I’m – what? I need you to elaborate.”

 

“Ugh, God,” Tsukki groans into his palm, eyes (truth) hidden into his hands, “you’re so dense.”

 

The Prince, although gifted with an intellect beyond his peers, knows he was not the best in common street smart, so when Tsukki stepped into his space, placed a chilly palm against his neck, and leant up with slightly parted lips, Tetsu sighs.

 

Now, he knew.

 

Tetsu leans down in tandem and kisses him.

 

His hands climb up into pale blond hair and cradled the owner it belonged to. His feet shuffle closer, pressing their chests together as his heart jolted in its cage. Tsukki’s lips were dry and chapped, but when he moves them against Tetsu’s own, he swoons.

 

There was a lot that they needed to talk about, a lot to settle until their peace could be restored, but as of that moment – as of that time, that space, that energy, that version of themselves – they were infinite.

 

-

 

Tsukki doesn’t send him away until the sun properly sets and even then he tugs at his flamboyant cape and pulls him into yet another heart blistering kiss.

 

“Tsukki, I have to leave,” the Prince mumbled into swollen lips.

 

Tsukki grumbles and presses him harder against the empty igloo. Tsukki dragged him into dinner but refused to even look in his direction when his family is near. The only time he’ll reach for Tetsu’s hand and hurls himself into his space is when he’s sure no one else is nearby. The heart blossomed in his chest, but Tetsu reminds himself to not be selfish, to take what he can get.

 

With a rough exhale of finality; Tsukki pushes himself off the Prince and hangs his head low. Tetsu lifts his chin, planting a peck on his smooth, smooth cheek and grins. “I’ll see to it that you’ll always get my letters.”

 

“Hm,” Tsukki’s fingers dance upon the Prince’s waist, “now that my tribe sees you as an ally, you’ll be able to deliver your letters directly.”

 

“Isn’t that great?”

 

“The best,” Tsukki drawls, dropping his forehead to the older’s shoulder. “Are you going now?”

 

Tetsu cranes his neck away from the blonde hair and stretches just far enough to see the small entrance he slipped through. “Yeah. Will you be okay?”

 

At that, Tsukki stepped back and arched an eyebrow, mouth lilting into a disappointed frown. Tetsu huffs an awkward laugh and scratches at the non-existent itch on the back of his neck, “Ah, yeah. Dumb question.”

 

“It’s fine, everything’s fine. Let’s go.”

 

Tetsu didn’t have it in him to protest so he trudges silently behind him, hand limp underneath Tsukki’s vice grip. Tetsu delivered his farewells to the chief of the tribe (Tsukki’s brother) and then to his mother, followed by the rest of the village. They embraced him and sent him away with a shaky smile, much like Tetsu’s love is doing.

 

They reach the opening sullenly, Tsukki’s fingers tightening around his. Tetsu doesn’t let himself say a word, allows Tsukki to pull and push at him at will. The clearing he left his boat was engulfed in black dust, but his ship remains intact with no visible scratches. Tetsu heaved a sigh of relief but doesn’t budge from where he stood beside Tsukki.

 

A haggard breath echoed through the icy walls of the clearing and Tetsu flits his gaze on the boy beside him. Tsukki cups his hand against his mouth as if he couldn’t believe that sound came from him, and then he shivered (from the cold, Tetsu hopes.)

 

He pivots on the ice and faces him. “Tsukki,” he whispered.

 

The blond didn’t move; staring at the dull navy horizon in the distance, hand still on his mouth.

 

“Tsukki, please – I need to go.”

 

Tsukki’s shoulders jumped up then back down a few times before he nodded, once, curtly and stiff. He turns to face the Prince and Tetsu can barely contain his surprise when he sees the boy’s eyes are dry.

 

“I’ve… ran out,” Tsukki chuckles bitterly, eyeing the Prince. Tetsu blinks.

 

“Right – uh, Tsukki. I… before I leave, I need to know. What are we?”

 

Tsukki’s copper gaze pins him down and the façade is broken by a shaky exhale. “I’m… I don’t know either. What are we, Tetsu-san?”

 

Tetsu takes a step forward and tilts his head a fraction downwards as his right-hand cups Tsukki’s chin. “I can be anything you want me to be.”

 

Tsukki snorts but doesn’t tear his gaze away. “Don’t be stupid.”

 

“I’m quite serious,” Tetsu murmurs. The wind around them is so, so cold but wherever their skin touched he felt so, so warm. “Anything.”

 

“Mine, then,” Tsukki challenges, an upward tug on the left of his lips. Tetsu smiles.

 

“Yours.”

 

-

 

Tetsu thundered down the halls, his footfalls shaking the walls like an avalanche. He barely feels his feet hit the ground. His breath came out in pants and he heaves out dust.

 

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god_

There was so much he wanted to say, need to say, to Tsukki. He wanted to hold his hand, to kiss him, to look him in the eye, make him blush, but he can’t – he can’t. He needs to get there now or he can’t.

 

There are no guards around and Tetsu’s heart is bleeding, it’s bursting into a million tiny cells from how fast he’s tearing down the castle to his quarters.

 

He’s got so much to live for. He’s got Tsukki.

 

_Right?_

 

Time slows and Tetsu is shoved to the wall.

 

There’s no screaming, no kicking, just Tsukki dragged out of his room – lifeless.

 

For a moment, he thinks the worst has come to reality. He lunges forward, a screaming tearing itself out of his chest. The guards startle, the two with their arms around him jolts their prisoner.

 

Tsukki looks up then and their eyes met.

 

Tetsu feels a million things go off at once.

 

He’s lost, like always, in that golden gaze, but flashes of their four years play before him.

 

Their first meeting, first banter, first hug, first laughs, the first kiss, first cuddle, first fight, first I love you.

 

Tetsu breathes.

 

They take him away.

 

Tsukki goes limp but doesn’t drop his gaze. Tetsu surges as adrenaline spike into him.

 

He grabs the arm stopping him and twists hard enough to hear a crack. Dodging two guards coming his way, he slithers past them, drawing a line of fire as they try to attack. They, too, drop steadily onto the soles of their feet with aimed arms.

 

“Stop.”

 

The command should be chilling, but Tetsu is running hot, hot, hot. He whirls in his spot with his fiery arms and he knows, oh, he knows how crazy he must look. His eyes flit between every corner of his vision every millisecond, searching for threats. Then they land on his father, no—the Fire Lord.

 

The Lord raised an arm, but doesn’t aim it high enough for it to be him. “Tetsurou, stop it.”

 

“I…” he wants to scream, to hurl insults and demands at his father, but nothing came out. “I…”

 

“You’re acting childish. Stop this right now.”

 

There was no menace in his voice, just the heavy tone of a disappointed parent. Tetsu huffs, right – parent. He drops his arms, but his gaze and stance remain defensive. The Fire Lord rolls his eyes.

 

“You can’t take him away,” Tetsu growled, knowing full well there’s nothing he can do at this point.

 

The Fire Lord is smug, but his lips are firm in a thin line. “I’ve let you have him for the past year. I think it’s about time we grow up and get rid of our toys, Tetsurou.”

 

Tetsu snarls, but the blood doesn’t circulate to his brain fast enough for him to formulate anything coherent so he stays low, feral, ready to attack. The Fire Lord waves at him flippantly.

 

“Now, there’s two ways we can do this. You can agree to the betrothal between you and Kenma-kun, and in turn, I will allow your measly toy to come and go so long as he is undetected. Or you can refuse and let the guards take him far, far away from here.”

 

“There’s nothing civilised about that! He’s not a dog – he’s a human!”

 

“Choose.”

 

Tetu’s hands tremble by his side and he snaps his head to look behind him, to look at the only reason why he puts up with everything thrown at him so far.

 

Tsukki’s tired if the listlessness to his limbs and the dull movement of his eyes are any indication. He slumps against the guards’ hold, not even struggling to break free. It tugs at his heartstrings and burns his eyes because he knew, he knew this was coming for him that while it is absurd for any other couple it’s an inevitable for them. He sees it as their end.

 

“Kei,” he breathes. Tsukki doesn’t even flinch.

 

Instead, the water bender raises his eyes framed by downturn brows and whispers, “Don’t – don’t do something you don’t want to do.”

 

“I don’t want to do either,” he hisses, the edges of his vision becoming blurry.

 

“Tetsu…rou,” Tsukki chokes, “please.”

 

The Prince staggers forward only to have a rough hand yank him back. The Fire Lord sent him a cold glare, the vice grip on his neck only tightening. “Choose,” said him.

 

“I…”

 

“He doesn’t want to go with the marriage,” Tsukki bites out, finally straightening himself, “he doesn’t—don’t force him, please.”

 

“Very well,” the Fire Lord hums, then waves a hand, “Guards, take him away.”

 

“What! No! Tsukki!”

 

Tetsu dived into a lunge and pulled both of his hands, summoning the fire into them without a second thought and fired at the exposed leg taking his Tsukki away.

 

But things moved too fast and in a fraction of a second, the guard repelled himself backwards, pulling a chained Tsukki to his chest. By then, changing the trajectory of the fireball was impossible and Tetsu felt himself explode as it bounced off Tsukki’s pale ankle.

 

The water bender screamed in agony, crumbling to the floor as the skin covering his ankle bubble and fizzle, popping smoke as it turns angrily red by the minute. Tetsu gasped, hands trembling in front of him and surged forwards only to be yanked back again.

 

“You see? You’re no match for the others; this is why we breed amongst our own, Tetsu. All we can do, all you can do, is hurt them.”

 

The words ring in his ears as Tsukki’s gasps of breath echo within the hollow halls of his body. His sobs wrack him, shoulders jumping wildly as both hands try to slow down the burning process – but it was all in vain. By the time he spares a look, the skin is a deep red scar and Tsukki’s cheeks are flushed with tears and his eyes swollen, writhing every so often on the floor.

 

He's taken two years back when he freed the Southern Water Tribe from the Fire Nation Raiders. Images of dark icy igloos and hushed apologies and wrecked furniture and Tsukki's tears flash onto his mind.

 

“It’s okay,” the blond grits out once their eyes met, “I—ah, fuck, I’m… shit!”

 

“It’s not okay!” Tetsu hissed, trying to bend down but forced upright by the vice grip on his collar. “It’s not – shit, Tsukki, fuck. I’m so sorry,” the tears came freely, now, and he attempts to steady himself but he crumbles within himself. “I’m so—”

 

With an air of finality, Tetsu whirls to face his father, “I’ll… I’ll agree to the marriage,” inhale, “but you… please take him away.”

 

“Tetsurou,” Tsukki calls, disbelief, shock, and hurt. Tetsu can’t look at him, doesn’t look at him as he walks into his chamber.

 

The doors don’t block out sound as well as he thought they would for it’s been hours since they took him away and Tetsu could still hear Tsukki’s broken wails calling for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed
> 
>  
> 
> WE'RE DONE WITH THE FIRST HALF OF THE STORY!! THE NEXT CHAP WILL BE SET 4~6 YRS FROM THIS TIMELINE!!! THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME THIS LONG
> 
> come say hi~
> 
> tumblr: chessokay.tumblr.com  
> twitter: nikiforovkun


	11. Part II: The Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set 4 years into the future.

A long _long_ time ago, when Hajime was merely a child, he dreamt of climbing trees so high that stars were at his fingertips. There’s a certain degree of selfishness in dreams that are not found in goals. People set goals to achieve them while dreams are a faraway, out of reach ideal, but if you managed to capture your dream – or a sliver of it – and set it as your goal, who are you to complain, right?

 

It’s reckless, messy, and completely not something Hajime dreamed of when he was younger.

 

But scaling up the shadowy walls of the Fire Nation castle is much harder than climbing trees, and touching the flawless plane that is Oikawa’s skin is much more intoxicating than having the stars on his fingertips.

 

He’s drunk, unaware and ignorant of the consequences should they be caught, but he’s also young – he doesn’t have time to dwell on what-ifs that haunt their inevitable future. He and Oikawa weren’t meant to be together, but they were destined.

 

Oikawa’s fingers slot so easily against his callous ones, and despite the brat sprouting up taller than Hajime in the past six years they’ve been together, he still bends down and twists his back to rest his weary head against Hajime’s sturdy shoulder.

 

Fleeting kisses and whispers exchanged in the night, the flurry of Oikawa’s chambers just before dawn breaks into the room, and the croaky goodbye he stutters out every time they part – it’s all worth it. Even as he meets the crown prince’s dull eyes on those rare occasions he lets himself be seen by the castle’s populace, even then it’s worth it.

 

Hajime clenches his fist and kicks the ground, rigid as the ground beneath him trembles and shoots up into the sky. He inhales deep, willing the earth to carry him to his star and the rumbling halts when he faces a familiar box-shaped hole, maroon curtains obscure the room but were parted slightly in the middle – an open invitation.

 

The earth bender sighs softly into the night before he lunges forward and hops into the room, the ground dissolving back into its origins with a mere push of his palm. Hajime doesn’t wait for the world to still again, he turns and sees Oikawa’s slumped back against the window, and head drooped low as his long lashes sweep over his pale cheeks. His shoulders rise now and then, and his forehead is nearly touching his bent knee but would jolt upright in an effort to stay awake. Hajime feels the warmth in his chest travel to his cheeks, and he knows (it’s all he does lately around the prince) that he had a fond, easy smile on display that is only reserved for Oikawa.

 

“Come on,” Hajime murmurs, finally stepping forward, “let’s get you to bed.”

 

Oikawa makes a noise of protest as he was being moved up to the bed, but Hajime shushes him as he gently lays the prince’s head on top of the silk pillow. Silently, Hajime shucks his emerald tunic, leaving himself bare save for the undershirt and his beige trousers, and then crawls next to the prince.

 

For a moment, Hajime’s breathing stills as he faces the prince up close. Oikawa wasn’t ethereal – he had scars from his combat training, lines etched onto his face from the worry he carries around, and dark bags under his eyes. Hajime stares then jerks back when the sleeping prince grumbles.

 

“Iwa-chan, it’s rude to stare.”

 

Hajime scoffs, rolling his body to face the ceiling, “Don’t flatter yourself, it’s unattractive.”

 

“Oh, so Iwa-chan thinks I’m attractive before?” Oikawa hums, shuffling closer to him.

 

“Go to sleep.”

 

Oikawa snorts, “Mm, goodnight, Hajime.”

 

-

It’s a vicious cycle of longing. Hajime goes to him, goes back to Gaoling, misses him, longs for him, and then he goes back. However, with the newly added responsibility as town guard, Hajime rarely has time to spend at his leisure. They’re twenty now, Oikawa’s coming of age party just right around the corner, as is Hajime’s plan to go to Ba Sing Se to join the Dai Li.

 

On the brink of adulthood, Hajime misses him more than ever. Oikawa took up combative training, politics, and there’s a rumor that he will be appointed as a head state somewhere in the colonies. Their time together is slipping fast, haste encounters in the middle of the night before one of them (Hajime) disappears before the sunrise.

 

Over the years, Hajime reserved a closet that is to be stacked full with the scrolls he received from Oikawa. Six years later, he has most under his bed since he can’t seem to open the closet without tens of the scrolls pour out. Now that he lives alone, it’s much easier to leave the scrolls lying around anywhere without being caught. Hajime even invited Oikawa to Gaoling once (with Hanamaki, of course.) In fact, he’s rather adored by the mothers in the markets (that pompous asshole.)

 

Hajime’s on his way to the city center when a group of his mother’s friends knocks into him.

 

“Hajime-kun! What a surprise! Are you reporting for duty today?” Abe-san coos, smiling with crinkly eyes up at him. Hajime smiles at the group of ladies and bows slightly.

 

He says, “Good morning, you all look very lovely today. Yes, I am. Are you all going to the market?”

 

“Such a charming boy,” Fujiwara-san cries, swatting the woman beside her, “how I wish my son was like you, Hajime-kun.”

 

“Ah—that’s, um, thank you.”

 

“Hajime-kun, my son Daiki is getting married soon, you remember him, right? You two used to play in the forest together. Since I forgot to hand out the invitation to your mother can you please forward this to her?” Hino-san hums, fishing inside her bag to pull out an articulate invite. Hajime eyes the thing and nods, reaching a hand for the envelope.

 

“Of course,” he says, “thank you.”

 

A hand swats his bicep then, he looks down and sees a teasing Abe-san. “Speaking of marriage, when will you tie the knot, dear?”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes, all our children have gotten married in the past year. Your mother looks quite lonely during our conversations nowadays, isn’t it a son’s duty to carry lineage?”

 

“Ah,” Hajime lets an exasperated exhale out and rubs the nape of his neck, “I’m… soon, eventually. It’s just… I really want to train hard to get into the Dai Li before the first frost, so…”

 

“Oh! How could we forget! Well, in that case, work hard, Hajime-kun! We’re waiting~”

 

Hajime can only bow, forcing out a laugh, before he speeds walks to the city center.

 

Hajime doesn’t meet his parents often these days. He overworks, rarely goes home, and spends most of his free time training himself to be the best he can be, but his parents made a mandatory once a week dinner date and Hajime knows if he skips one his father would be more than ready to skin him alive. So, after the dips below the horizon and most of his co-workers have packed their things, Hajime follows suit, trailing the path he knows by heart.

 

Hajime faces the squat grey hut before shucking his shoes to the side and letting himself in, “Tadaima.”

 

“Okaeri,” his father gruff voice echoes from the living room. From the kitchen, his mother calls for him.

 

“Hajime, come in here and help me finish the last few dishes.”

 

“Hai.”

 

Hajime sits in front of his mother, to the left of his father at the dinner table and waits patiently as his father recites their prayers before digging in. It’s been a few years since he moved out, but he misses them every day (especially the cooking.)

 

“Hajime-kun, close your mouth while you chew, it’s unbecoming of you,” his mother chastises. Hajime stills then ducks his head in apology.

 

“Maybe that’s why he’s unmarried.”

 

Silence looms over the family, sitting in the empty chair of their four-membered table. Hajime doesn’t dare shift in his seat, halting his hand – thus, letting his chopsticks freeze mid-air – from coming closer then waits.

 

His mother swats his father’s arm as an indignant squawk escapes her lips. “Eizou!”

 

“What?” his father shrugs, eyes rolling, “he’s nearly twenty-one. I expected him to have married or an heir, that’s all.”

 

“You can’t pressure him like that! He’s our son, not someone just to carry the name.”

 

“Akari, you and I both know he’s the talk of the town because of it.”

 

His mother’s lips parted, ready for a rebuttal, but Hajime clears his throat and wipes his mouth with the handkerchief laid out next to his cutlery. “I, uh, just remembered I’ve got to be up early tomorrow. The chief wants me to take the dawn patrol shift.”

 

His father grumbles an incoherent dismissal while his mother froze in shock, she sputters and begs him to stay but Hajime merely shakes his head and sent her a polite smile. Hajime stands and bows.

 

“Thank you for the meal,” before he walks out of their dining room and out of the house he grew up in.

 

Once outside, Hajime sucks in the night air hungrily, the suffocating chokehold on his neck now gone. His mind reels as his father’s words replay over and over again, a dull but constant throb in the back of his head. He could and did sweep the meeting with the ladies this morning under the rug, but his father’s disapproval was the last nail in the coffin.

 

Hajime doesn’t have the dawn shift tomorrow, but his parents didn’t know that – they don’t have to know that. As soon as he’s a registered Dai Li, there’ll be even more things they won’t know about their son, but the biggest secret of all – the only secret Hajime doesn’t want to keep – is the deadliest. So, he enters his house briskly, shoving a change of clothes into his sack before dressing down to the bare minimum before he locks the door behind him and sets off for the Fire Nation without a looking back.

 

-

 

“Did they bring up the marriage thing again?” Tooru asks from where he’s perched on his bed. Hajime grunts from the floor, tugging off his boots.

 

“Yeah, they’re… pressured, I think. It’s not their fault.”

 

Tooru balks, a half-eaten mooncake in his hand, “Still! No parent should ever force his or her child to marry.”

 

There’s an understanding that passes between them, a secret moment of silence for the crown prince. Hajime lets three heartbeats past before even attempting to explain to his boyfriend, but Tooru beats him to it.

 

“Seriously, Iwa-chan,” he says with a mouthful of chewed cake innards, “you don’t deserve it.”

 

Hajime crunches his nose in disgust as he unpacks his sleep shirt. “You’re disgusting.”

 

“You love me.”

 

“Sadly.”

 

“Mean! Iwa-chan’s so mean to me!”

 

Hajime scoffs when Oikawa outstretched his arms and falls back onto his mattress with a thud. The night sky is a navy blanket above them, and the stars winked at him from the open slit between Oikawa’s maroon curtains, and Hajime breathes in.

 

He breathes in the scent of candle wax from the millions of candle scents Oikawa likes to collect. He swipes his palm over the dusty, but newly, installed jade tiles, which weren’t there when he first trespassed into the castle. Then, finally, he sets his eyes on the bed. There lain a distressed prince, kicking petulantly at the air and waving his arms haphazardly for attention.

 

With a huff, Hajime pushes himself up and quickly changed out of his traveling attire and slips into his faded grey tee and shucked off his pant before crawling on top of the prince.

 

“Ah~ my boyfriend’s such a brute! As a prince, I don’t deserve this treatment!”

 

“For a prince, you’re pretty whiny,” Hajime hums when their noses aligned.

 

Oikawa scowls, “At least I can show emotion! All you are is a grump.”

 

“Is that so?” Hajime asks, voice lilting at the end as a smirk came over his face. Oikawa gulps then abruptly sat up, forcing Hajime to reel back and pinned the earth bender onto the bed. Hajime flailed, but merely panted when he realised he couldn’t get out of the prince’s grip. “You’ve improved.”

 

Oikawa doesn’t dignify the compliment with a response, instead of searching into Hajime’s eyes with fervour. “Hajime,” he says.

 

“Yeah?” responded Hajime, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Oikawa leaned in, then, and pressed his lips to the corner of Hajime’s mouth, tongue darting out quickly to swipe over his bottom lip. Hajime groaned, chasing for those lips and pressing up to the warmth that was Oikawa’s skin. Everywhere they touched burned, burned, burned, and Hajime wanted nothing more but to burn out.

 

They pant, resting their foreheads together, and Oikawa’s face is sombre – a level of serious that only resurfaces when needed and Hajime finds himself preparing. He doesn’t know what for, but there’s a constricting weight on his chest and it proved to be even more difficult to breathe under the unwavering gaze of the Fire Prince.

 

“Hajime.”

 

“Tooru.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes are dark, darker than the night sky outside and darker than the black of his own hair, and his lips were pressed into a thin line, but when he leans in one more time, he ducks Hajime’s lips and dove next to his ear.

 

“You don’t have to get married just for the sake of your parents.”

It takes him a second, but Hajime places his hand underneath Oikawa’s arms and shoved. “I’m not getting married, Tooru.”

“Good. Good. You – there’s no need for that, you know? You’re only twenty-one,” he blabbers, wide-eyed.

 

Hajime furrows his eyebrows but smirks when everything clicked into place. “Is the grand Oikawa Tooru jealous?”

 

“What! Me? Jealous? I know no such disease.”

 

Hajime only smiled as he crawls towards a stricken Oikawa, mouth opening and closing occasionally to defend his dignity. When they’re a few centimeters apart, Hajime knocks their foreheads together, which had Oikawa wince slightly but didn’t make him move back.

 

“I choose you, you idiot.”

 

Oikawa jolts back to meet his eye, “What?”

 

“I said,” Hajime sighs, sitting back on the sole of his feet, “I choose you. In everything – I… I choose you. I’m not getting married, you idiot.”

 

“You’re not?”

 

Hajime shakes his head, “Not if it isn’t you.”

 

“Hajime!” Oikawa exclaimed, throwing himself at him, “So sweet! Does being tired dope you up and make you forget reality or something? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?”

 

Hajime rolls his eyes, but snakes his arms around the taller man’s waist, drawing him closer as they fall back on the bed. “Whatever. Appreciate it.”

 

“I do! I swear, this is so – ew, so corny,” Oikawa says between his giggling fit. Hajime slaps his shoulder lightly.

 

“Hey, don’t make fun of me. I’m trying to be more romantic or whatever you wanted me to do last time.”

 

“I know, ahahahaha, oh my god. I know, I know, I know. My Iwa-chan’s so cute.”

 

“I’m not cute.”

 

Oikawa howls in laughter and Hajime has to shut him up the best way he knows how: he jumps up and pins the adult child onto the bed and kisses the living daylights out of him.

 

-

 

“Iwaizumi! It’s been a while since we’ve last met.”

 

Hanamaki Takahiro doesn’t age. Towering just a little above him, Hanamaki Takahiro stands perfectly pink as the day they first met. Although he was appointed as Oikawa’s advisor three years ago, on the eve of Tetsurou’s wedding (more like a formal unpleasant ceremony everyone had to sit through, if Oikawa’s whiny letters are anything to go by,) he resembles the kid Hajime first met way too much for the earth bender to take him seriously.

 

The advisor bounces on the sole of his feet, freshly printed scrolls for delivery were tucked under his right arm while his left jiggled beside him with every movement and twist of his shoulders. Seeing him was refreshing.

 

Hajime greets Hanamaki with a smile, “A long while, it seems. How’s the garden?”

 

“It’s beautiful – you should really go and see it. Issei is so proud. How long are you staying this time?”

 

“It’s… I haven’t decided. There’s barely any work for me back in the village and my friend is taking care of my sudden leave, so I’m not in a rush. You guys haven’t moved, right?”

 

Hanamaki shakes his pink head, “Nope! Just drop by anytime. Is Oikawa still in the shower?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Hajime mumbles, eyeing the far door Oikawa’s raucous voice echoed from.

 

“Good – that’s fine. Tell him to come to the hall of the meeting as soon as he’s decent, there’s an important matter we need to discuss.”

 

“Important? How important?” Hajime quipped, brows furrowed and arms crossing over the other. Hanamaki flits his eyes to the door leading to the chamber’s bathroom and gulps, shooting him a wary glance.

 

“It’s,” he starts, worries his bottom lip for a moment, then continues, “complicated. There seems to be a conflict somewhere in the Eastern exclaves.”

 

Hajime thinks this over as the rush of water reduced to drips in the bathroom Oikawa’s hidden in. Over the past few years, the Fire Nation weakened its attacks against the world as it went under preparation for their soon-to-be leader, the crown prince. As town guard, and someone interested in applying for the Dai Li, Hajime became more aware of the current rise of activity amongst the colonies. He bites his lip, casting his eyes downward.

 

Hanamaki didn’t let him reply. The advisor sighs, sagging his shoulders, then claps him on the back once. “There’s nothing we can do. Just get back safe, all right? Also, go stop by our house. Issei misses you.”

 

Hajime gives him a curt nod, watching Hanamaki wave once then trail off into the endless hallway.


End file.
